


The Unfairest Sex

by Cameo (CameoSF)



Series: Dancing in the Light [2]
Category: Murdoch Mysteries
Genre: M/M, Pendroch
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-04-13
Updated: 2014-04-13
Packaged: 2018-01-19 07:26:36
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 21,895
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1460842
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/CameoSF/pseuds/Cameo
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>A woman from their past returns and it's up to Julia to save the day. (Sequel to 'A Different Style of Dancing'.)</p>
            </blockquote>





	The Unfairest Sex

**Author's Note:**

> Contains references to off-screen rape.

**The Unfairest Sex**

William Murdoch watched the other patrons of the Toronto Opera House ride its new moving staircase, wondering what would happen if someone failed to step off at the top. He could imagine a mass of limbs and finery in an endless tangle until someone stopped the conveyor belt, and he didn’t really want to be a part of it. James Pendrick however, his companion this evening and every other, was eager to ride the new device. Murdoch suspected it was their primary reason for being there, since Pendrick had never expressed an interest in opera before its installation.

“It’s a clever design,” Pendrick remarked as they waited their turn to ride up to the second floor. “Seeberger’s improvements make it much more practical.”

“I see its advantages,” Murdoch replied, “but I also see potential for many mishaps.”

“Hopefully not tonight.”

Pendrick stepped on first, barely hiding his glee behind his sophisticated façade. In black tie and tails, he looked as elegant and powerful as every other gentleman in attendance. Unlike him, Murdoch felt pretentious and out of place in his equally grand clothing. He much preferred his comfortably genteel suits over the tuxedo Pendrick had chosen for him.

As he and the staircase rose smoothly to the upper floor, Murdoch happened to glance at its twin alongside them, carrying people back down to the mezzanine. He frowned in surprise.

“I’m positive I saw Julia,” he said, “I had no idea she was in town.”

Pendrick followed his gaze to the lower floor, then looked up in time to step off the staircase. “Yes, she’s with a shorter blonde woman.”

“Her sister, Ruby. She came to that Eugenics meeting with Mr. Wells.”

“Ah.” Pendrick didn’t like to talk about the Eugenics Society fiasco. Besides the murder that occurred as a direct result of the Society’s theories, he’d once mentioned to Murdoch that all he could think of was how Sally must have been laughing behind his back. For a con-woman with a history of pornography and no particular pedigree, the idea of being set up as an example of pure blood and breeding must have been hilarious.

Murdoch attempted to cross to the other staircase, but there was a crowd of people waiting to ride that one as well. He gave up and accompanied Pendrick to their seats in the huge theater, expecting he wouldn’t be able to locate Julia again till intermission. According to the program, La Traviata had two twenty minute breaks during its three hour performance.

To his surprise, it was Julia and Ruby who found them when the house lights came up for the first intermission. He and Pendrick had just reached the lobby when the two women approached from a side stairwell, Julia in the lead and looking resplendent in a deep blue gown. Ruby wore a more daring dress with a flatteringly low neckline, but Murdoch only had eyes for her sister.

“William!” Julia clasped his hands with a wide smile. “We saw you from the gallery. I must say, you look magnificent!”

Murdoch squeezed her fingers in return, then released them. “As do you. And you as well, Miss Ogden.” He turned to usher his companion forward. “You remember Mr. Pendrick, don’t you?”

“Of course.” Julia shook his offered hand. If she found it strange that a policeman was socializing with his former suspect, she hid it well. “It’s good to see you again.”

Pendrick nodded, and then bowed to Ruby, who was eyeing him with an arch look that said she liked what she saw.

Murdoch studied Julia happily. He’d once considered her the perfect woman, and he had no reason to think otherwise now. She appeared to be in good health and spirits, so he had to conclude that her marriage to Dr. Darcy Garland was everything she’d wanted. “How long will you be staying in Toronto?”

“I’m not sure. We just arrived this morning.”

“I met Julia in Buffalo and we traveled here together,” Ruby added. She inched closer to Pendrick. “We’ve taken rooms at a hotel until we decide.”

“Decide what?” Murdoch asked.

Julia hesitated, but she evidently found his open expression encouraging. “Might you and I meet tomorrow morning? I’d hoped to talk to you before making any other plans.”

“Of course. Come by the station.”

“Perhaps we can meet privately first?”

Murdoch was puzzled, but he had never been able to say no to her. “I’ll come by your hotel after breakfast. Where -”

“I have a brilliant idea,” Ruby interrupted prettily. “You two need to talk, and there’s another ten minutes till the next curtain. Julia, why don’t Detective Murdoch and I switch seats for the middle act? That way you and he can catch up, and Mr. Pendrick and I can become better acquainted.”

Julia colored a little at her effrontery, but seemed willing to go along with the plan. It was Pendrick who nixed it.

“A charming idea, Miss Ogden,” he said with his thin smile, “but Detective Murdoch and I have some business to discuss. Another time perhaps.”

Murdoch couldn’t read his tone. “I think meeting at your hotel would allow us a more relaxed chance to talk,” he told Julia.

She readily gave him the name and directions, while Ruby pretended not to pout.

Once they’d returned to their seats, Murdoch leaned toward his partner in order to speak quietly. “You’re not jealous, are you?”

“Of Julia? No, not at all.” Pendrick certainly didn’t sound it. “I simply don’t want to lead Miss Ogden on, since I have no interest in her.” He cast Murdoch a quick grin. “I also don’t see why I should be expected to give up your company.”

Murdoch tried not to blush. “That was my first thought too.”

He contemplated their unwavering fidelity after the lights went down and the performance resumed. La Traviata had never been his favorite opera anyway.

For six months now he and Pendrick had been joined in what he thought of as marriage, and during that time neither had shown any inclination to alter their arrangement. Everyone with whom they had regular contact had come to accept that they were fast friends, and those very few who knew they were a couple seemed to find their relationship remarkably stable. Murdoch had never been tempted to stray, not by a woman and certainly not by a man, but he wondered now whether Julia’s return would upset things. He’d once thought he was in love with her and thought she felt the same, if only temporarily. He couldn’t imagine his affections re-emerging now, and not only because she was a married woman. He only hoped that wasn’t any part of her purpose in meeting with him privately.

“My dear,” Pendrick breathed into his ear under cover of a boisterous chorus, “you are not the type of man who could betray anyone. If you ever decided you would rather be with Julia, I know you would tell me.”

“That won’t happen,” Murdoch promised. Even more softly, he murmured, “I don’t believe in divorce.”

Pendrick blinked several times, and Murdoch knew he was moved. After a pause, he managed to speak audibly again. “At times like this, I don’t believe I’ve ever been truly wed to anyone but you.”

Suddenly the theater was far too crowded and the opera far too long. By mutual consent, they left at the second intermission and went home to the privacy of their bedroom.

 

*****

 

Next morning Murdoch showed up at the hotel around eight o’clock, asked for Dr. Ogden, and was directed upstairs to her suite on the third floor. When he knocked at her door, Julia let him in immediately. Behind her a tea service had been laid out by the window of the central room that acted as a parlor.

“William, I’m so glad you could come by,” she said. “Won’t you join me?” She noted him looking around. Both doors off the small parlor were closed. “Ruby is still sleeping, so we won’t be disturbed.”

“It’s wonderful to see you, Julia,” Murdoch said impulsively. “I trust Darcy is well?”

Julia urged him over to the table. “That is one of the things I hoped to discuss with you. Tea?”

Murdoch took a seat beside her. “Yes, thank you. Am I to conclude that he did not come with you and your sister on this trip?”

“Darcy and I are separated,” Julia admitted. She poured and prepared their libations, not meeting his eyes. “For over a month now. It’s complicated. I’d rather not talk about it.”

“…I’m sorry to hear that. Is there no chance of reconciliation?”

“It’s unlikely.” Julia handed Murdoch his cup, fixed the way he always drank it, a small detail that reminded him how close they’d been. “It was becoming difficult working in the same hospital with him. Since he’d been there so much longer, I decided to move on. Or move back, as the case may be.” She finally gave him a genuine smile. “I missed Toronto. We’d been living in his family home, so there was nothing really to keep me in Buffalo.”

“Julia…” Murdoch’s automatic reaction was to want to hold and comfort her, but he merely touched her arm. “What will you do?”

“I’ve applied for my old job with the coroner. They don’t need anyone full time right now, but they’ve offered me a part-time position.”

“That’s excellent news.”

“And that’s why I wanted to talk to you first,” Julia explained carefully. “Having experienced the awkwardness of attempting to work with someone with whom I’ve had a past relationship, I wanted to give you an opportunity to state your feelings before I accept the job.”

Murdoch appreciated her thoughtfulness, but he was relieved to say it was unnecessary. “Julia, I assure you it won’t be a problem. Our ‘understanding’, as we called it, is in the past. I’m looking forward to working with you again.”

“I’m very glad.” She sipped her tea, watching him oddly. “There’s something different about you, William. You seem… content.”

“I am.” He smiled broadly before remembering that she would naturally expect him to give a reason. Although he had imagined telling her of his liaison with Pendrick, the time was not right. “I’m with someone,” he said. “It’s very serious.”

Julia’s mouth opened and closed in astonishment, then her own smile bloomed. “I’m so happy for you! Is it anyone I know?”

“I’d rather not go into detail right now, if you don’t mind. In any case, I should be on my way to the station. Do you work today?”

That brought their conversation back to her job at the morgue, and in the end they walked together the few blocks to Station No. 4. There Murdoch wasn’t alone in welcoming Julia home with enthusiasm and delight.

When he later told Pendrick about her return, the latter seemed pleased.

“As I recall, she was the best pathologist your station ever had,” he remarked. Most of his attention was on one of his devices, a small box that sent out sound waves at a high frequency. He’d spent weeks reducing its size from two square feet to six square inches. “If I’m ever again accused of murder, I would certainly want her working on the case.”

Murdoch didn’t comment, confident that no such thing would ever occur.

Julia fit in nicely with the rest of the staff at the morgue. Those who knew her deferred to her seniority; those who didn’t soon learned that she was extremely experienced and intuitive. In her first few weeks she helped solve two investigations that had gone cold in her absence. Not long afterwards, she was hired back to her full time position.

In many ways it was as if she’d never left. She and Ruby moved from the hotel into a small house within biking distance of the station, and although Murdoch wasn’t sure how Miss Ogden planned to occupy herself, Julia seemed to resume her old life easily. If she missed her husband, she never let on.

Murdoch visited her in the morgue as frequently as he used to do, even though he could easily call her on the telephone. He enjoyed her company, and on several occasions was on the verge of disclosing to her whom he was involved with, but he told himself it was ungentlemanly to boast of his successful union when hers had gone so wrong. Julia never told him her reason for ending her marriage, so he held off.

At home Pendrick had embarked on a large project a few months earlier that now bore fruit. When he’d once said that he’d like to have the use of the pool, Murdoch had presumed he meant for swimming. Pendrick had hired some men to clean and repair the vast T-shaped cavity in the back lawn, including the decorative fountains that dotted it. When the pool was filled, it looked quite inviting. Then he’d lowered several dozen metal spheres onto the bottom and started testing his device to determine their size and location by sound waves alone.

“It’s far too cold to swim in it,” he rationalized when Murdoch voiced his disappointment.

“I was hoping to learn how,” Murdoch said. He’d never had the opportunity as a boy, and as an adult was not willing to go out in public in the outrageous outfit that currently passed for bathing wear. He’d hoped that he could don something slightly less revealing on their own grounds.

Pendrick looked up from his device with a grin that said he knew exactly what Murdoch’s concern was. “If this oscillator of mine works the way I intend it to, it will make us enough money to build an indoor pool,” he promised. “One with heat so that we won’t have to wear any clothing at all.”

Murdoch didn’t comment, since he found the thought of being naked with Pendrick outside their bedroom both tantalizing and unnerving. More than once their urges had arisen while they were in another room, and more than once Murdoch had not managed to lead his partner up to their bed in time. Indulging in sex in the bath chamber was relatively natural; making love on a divan in the ballroom after a rousing waltz had been heart-stopping in more ways than one.

From then on, when he got home each day Murdoch knew to look for his partner out back. Pendrick had built a modified version of his miniature carriage that was water-proofed and able to roll along the bottom of the pool. He’d installed his oscillator inside it and his intention was to be able to guide it via remote controller around and through the obstacle course of metal spheres and fountains by sound waves alone. The spheres were rigged to move at random around the bottom of the pool, but so far that wasn’t necessary since the oscillator tended to recognize either cement or metal, but not both. Pendrick had several times had to retrieve and repair his carriage due to a collision with one or the other.

“I would think its practical applications are limited,” Murdoch admitted. “Do you have something in mind for it other than undersea exploration?”

“I’ve already had offers from parties in the States and Europe. Once it works, my oscillator will be able to ‘see’ and identify undersea vehicles from a safe distance.”

Light dawned. “You mean it would be useful if a war were to occur.”

Pendrick was pragmatic. “I think it very likely, so I may as well take advantage. I’ve nearly perfected the device, and governments are willing to pay for it. At least my oscillator can’t be used as a weapon. It has no destructive capabilities.”

“Has our government shown any interest?”

For the first time Pendrick broke eye contact. “They have, and their offer was embarrassingly low.” He tweaked a miniscule tuner on his device with a tool no larger than a blade of grass. “I’m a businessman, my dear. Until there is a war, I have no compunction selling to the highest bidder.”

Murdoch wasn’t completely comfortable with his philosophy, but he’d always known that Pendrick was an entrepreneur as well as an inventor. He couldn’t fault the man’s business acumen since he suspected he had none of his own. God willing, war would not occur anytime soon, so the issue would be moot.

 

*****

 

At work Murdoch had his plate full with murders. One afternoon as he was rushing to interview a suspect at the station after testifying against another one in court, he was waylaid by Inspector Brackenreid. The latter was closed in his office, but when Murdoch appeared, the inspector beckoned him over urgently. Murdoch went in and only then saw the other person sitting in the room.

“Detective Murdoch,” Agent Terrence Meyers rose and offered his hand. The government agent seemed to tower over those around him, and Murdoch had learned that it was due to his personality as much as his height. “I was hoping to speak with you.”

Murdoch shook his hand. “What can I do for you?” he inquired with a quick look at Brackenreid, who opted to stay out of it.

“I understand that you’re living at the Pendrick house,” Meyers said. “Are you privy to Mr. Pendrick’s work?”

“Yes.”

“Does your opinion carry any weight with the man?”

“In some areas.”

“You’re aware of his current project? His oscillator?”

“What about it?”

Meyers’ patience had always been limited. “Detective, I’m asking whether you would be willing to talk to Mr. Pendrick about selling his invention to the Ministry of Militia and Defense. He has shown some reluctance to negotiate with us.”

“My understanding is that he’s had better offers,” Murdoch replied mildly. Behind Meyers he saw Brackenreid hide a smirk.

“His first allegiance should be to his own country.”

“That decision is his alone. I don’t have any influence over his business dealings.”

Meyers jaw hardened. “You will not assist us then?”

“No, but I’ll tell Mr. Pendrick of your continued interest -”

The man slammed his hat onto his head. “You and he will hear from us again.”

With that he left the office without a backward glance. In the main room Constable Higgins barely got out of the man’s way in time to avoid being trampled.

Murdoch faced his superior. “Sir, I’m late for an interrogation -”

“Never mind that, Murdoch.” Brackenreid said darkly. “Before you arrived, Meyers informed me of something you’ll want to know. Seems Mrs. Pendrick, or should I say Hubbard, has been taken into custody.” He didn’t let Murdoch speak. “By the very same government agency that Meyers represents. And before you ask, no. She isn’t going to be tried for murder or attempted murder. She’s agreed to work for said government in exchange for her freedom.”

Murdoch was thunderstruck. “Sally is free?”

“That’s right, my lad. Mrs. P is no longer wanted by the police. She’s a free agent, as it were.”

“Where is she?”

“Meyers didn’t say where they caught up with her, nor when. He just alerted the constabulary that if she’s seen in Toronto, we are not to take any action.” Brackenreid glowered. “Burns my butt, it does. The woman is a killer. She should be awaiting hanging, not working for our own government -”

Murdoch’s hand was on the door before he even realized he’d moved. “Sir, I have to go.”

The inspector waved him off. “Just get back here as soon as possible.”

Although it felt as if his bike were weighted down, it didn’t take Murdoch long to reach the house. He went straight around back, but Pendrick wasn’t out by the pool today. Murdoch was headed for the back door when he heard voices coming from what used to be the music room, a spacious, now empty chamber leading to a terrace that was cracked and overgrown with weeds. One of the terrace doors was open for the first time since he’d lived there.

“Don’t be silly, James,” a familiar voice was purring when Murdoch stopped in the doorway Sally’s back was to him, but she was as elegantly dressed and coifed as ever. “I never signed any divorce papers.”

“Your signature wasn’t needed,” Pendrick told her tightly. He noted Murdoch’s entrance but didn’t react to it. “The divorce was uncontested and finalized months ago. There’s nothing here for you.”

She moved closer to him, and Pendrick stepped back automatically, as one would from a viper. Murdoch could hear amusement in her tone. “My darling, all that is in the past. We are meant to be together, we always were. You’ve said it yourself. We’re alike, you and I. We see opportunities and we take them.”

“Do not consider me your next opportunity. That ship has sailed.”

Sally reached out to lay a delicate hand on his arm, and this time Pendrick didn’t pull away. “I disagree. You were never so successful as when we worked together. We can do so again, James. We can make another fortune, recapture the love we had.”

“Speaking of recapturing, “ Murdoch said, finally stepping into the room. Sally started, but her expression was calm when she turned to him. She was still lovely, although the fine lines around her eyes were more pronounced. “Agent Meyers has explained the conditions of your freedom. If you’re here to try to coax the oscillator away from Mr. Pendrick on the government’s behalf, you’re wasting your time.”

Pendrick’s eyebrows rose at that. “So that’s why you’re here? How mercenary of you, my dear.”

Sally pursed her lips, again turning her back on Murdoch. “That’s the excuse I gave Mr. Meyers, but we both know you mean more to me than that.”

“Do we? If I remember correctly, you framed me for murder and would have let me hang. You also shot me.”

She arched a brow. “But I didn’t kill you, did I? You know I could have. I’m an excellent markswoman.”

“And an excellent liar,” Murdoch added.

She cast him an irritated look. “Why are you here, Detective Murdoch?”

“Detective Murdoch is rooming here,” Pendrick said, and Murdoch wondered about Meyers’ oversight in not mentioning that to her. “He’s interested in my work and has been helpful in ways you never could be.”

Sally’s demeanor changed again. She batted her eyes at her erstwhile husband. “I daresay I was more useful to you in other ways,” she said, her voice like silk as her fingers crept slowly up his arm. “That could be yours again. _I_ could be yours.”

Pendrick caught her fingers in his and squeezed until she pulled her hand back with a gasp. “Sally, believe me when I say that I don’t want you. I don’t trust you. I don’t love you.” His gaze was cold. “You are not welcome in this house, and if you return, I will have you arrested for trespassing. I don’t imagine the government granted you amnesty for that.”

If the fire in her blue eyes could have killed, Pendrick would have burned where he stood. Sally turned on her heel and exited the music room the way she had apparently come, through the terrace door. She ignored Murdoch completely.

Pendrick exhaled heavily. The first word out of his mouth was profane, but he followed that with, “How timely that Agent Meyers warned you of his alliance with Sally. She showed me a document to that effect, but I wasn’t sure of its authenticity.”

Murdoch related his conversation with Meyers, but that was hardly the aspect of Sally’s sudden appearance that worried him. “You’ve never underestimated her before. What do you think she’ll do now?”

“She won’t give up, not if it means sacrificing her freedom.”

“Are you ready to do battle with her over the divorce?”

Pendrick shrugged. He seemed a little drained, but as Murdoch had surmised, he’d always expected his former wife to turn up again, fugitive or not. He’d made sure his divorce would hold up to any attempt to void it. “I’m ready for anything she does. Are you?”

Murdoch felt that he was. Still, as soon as he got back to the station, he sent word to Meyers asking where Sally was living. He meant to keep a close eye on her.

 

*****

 

There was no sign of Sally for the next few days. According to Meyers, she’d taken rooms in an all-women boarding house in a part of town that was far beneath her usual standards. The agent showed no regard for her straitened circumstances, evidently considering them motivation for her to do the job he’d assigned her. Murdoch swung by the boarding house on his way home from work one evening just to see its condition, and the number of street walkers outside told him everything he needed to know.

“Sally Pendrick is a dangerous woman,” Julia agreed when he described the situation to her. She was honestly appalled. “What is our government thinking, hiring a murderer?”

“They’re thinking the ends justify the means,” Murdoch guessed.

“That sounds very much like a murderer’s rationalization.”

“It has certainly been Sally’s.”

That night he got home late. There’d been a sensational killing in Queen’s Park that had newspapermen hounding Station No. 4 all day, and between them and the conflicting reports from witnesses, he’d been tied up through dinnertime. It was long after dark when Murdoch arrived at the house, so he didn’t seek Pendrick out back. He looked for him first in the library, where a light had been left on, then went through to the dining room. It too was empty, and when Murdoch entered the kitchen, he was puzzled to find Mary’s dinner still sitting in the oven.

The next thing that struck him was the smell of wine pervading the room. He opened the door to the dark wine cellar, where the odor was overwhelming. Curious and a bit queasy, Murdoch turned on the lights and went down the stairs cautiously, unsure what he’d find. When he saw Pendrick lying on the floor amidst a dozen broken bottles, he gasped out loud.

It wasn’t until he’d knelt beside his partner that all the details became clear: Pendrick’s arms were tied behind his back, and a pillow slip covered his head. His clothing was stained and torn, especially his trousers, and mixed with the rank smell of wine was the unmistakable scent of blood.

“James!” Murdoch pulled the pillow case free. It left a thin welt where it had been twisted around Pendrick’s throat. His eyes were closed, his face drawn even in unconsciousness. When Murdoch reached around to untie his arms, the movement brought him awake with a loud cry. “Dear God, who did this to you?”

Pendrick didn’t try to speak at once. He appeared a bit dazed, and when Murdoch managed to remove the ropes holding his arms behind him, he realized it was from pain: Pendrick’s right shoulder was obviously displaced. When Murdoch tried to sit him up, the other shook his head.

“No,” he breathed. “Don’t move me.”

“I have to. You’re kneeling on broken glass,” Murdoch told him unsteadily.

Pendrick nodded after a moment. With Murdoch’s assistance he was able to get to his feet. When his trousers slipped to the floor, Murdoch gasped a second time, not having seen till then that they’d been slit down the back seam with a knife. His shorts were also rent to reveal blood and another substance that made Murdoch freeze in place, his mind reeling.

“Help me upstairs,” Pendrick murmured, wrapping his good arm over Murdoch’s shoulder. “William?” His head hung in exhaustion but he spoke clearly enough. “Yes, it’s what you think, but please help me up to our room before you fall apart.”

He was right: Murdoch was on the verge of uselessness, but if his lover could function, he had to. Moving extremely slowly, pausing every two or three steps, they made it up the cellar stairs, down the hallway, and up the front stairs as well. At the top Pendrick urged them toward his own bedroom, which he hadn’t slept in for months. Murdoch’s wits were still scrambled, so he didn’t question it.

By the time Pendrick collapsed on his side on the bed, both were drenched in sweat. Pendrick was ashen, but still conscious, the grooves on either side of his mouth deepened with pain. In the better light here, Murdoch could see that his knees were shredded, glass still protruding in places. He also had bruises and swelling in other areas.

“Who did this?” Murdoch asked desperately.

“I don’t know, I didn’t see their faces,” Pendrick said. He attempted to remove what remained of his trousers, but the slightest shift of his right arm made him grimace. “Do you know how to fix a dislocated shoulder?”

“In theory, but I’ve never done it. I’d be afraid of causing further damage.”

“Then I need a doctor.”

“I’ll bring the carriage around,” Murdoch offered, dreading the trip back downstairs. Pendrick however shook his head again.

“No, I can’t go to the hospital. I won’t. Either try to fix it here, or…” He didn’t have an alternative, but Murdoch wasn’t about to try to manipulate an arm already in severe distress. His thoughts went to their only possible option.

“I’ll bring a doctor. Stay here and lie still. I’ll be as quick as I can.”

Pendrick closed his eyes. “Go.”

Before leaving the house, Murdoch did one other thing. His mind was racing now, and his foremost thought besides getting medical care for his partner was to keep him safe till he returned. The revolver that Pendrick normally kept in his desk drawer was missing, so Murdoch fetched the deadliest looking knife he could find in the kitchen. When he took it upstairs and placed it in Pendrick’s good hand, the other nodded in thanks.

Over the previous months Murdoch had driven the horseless carriage many times, but never as fast as he did that night. The roads were mostly clear since it was nearly eleven o’clock, and Murdoch only hoped he’d be able to awaken Julia without rousing her neighbors.

It took a few minutes of pounding, but when Julia opened the door, she appeared wide awake. She ushered him in immediately, pulling her dressing gown around her but otherwise not wasting time on modesty.

“William, what is it?” she exclaimed. She glanced upstairs to where Ruby presumably was still asleep and lowered her voice. “Are you all right?”

“I need you to come with me immediately,” Murdoch said frantically. “There’s been an accident.”

“An accident? Where? Is someone hurt?”

“Yes. It’s urgent. I don’t have time to explain, and there’s no one else I can go to.” He wanted nothing more than to grab her and physically put her in the carriage, but he restrained himself. The panic in his face and voice were saying more than his words anyway. “Please.”

Julia seemed nonplussed. “Let me get dressed -”

“There’s no time. I swear no one will care that you’re in your night wear.”

She tilted her head, mouth open to protest again, then threw up her hands. She quickly swapped her dressing down for her coat. Her medical bag was sitting on a small stand near the door where she could grab it on the way out. “Let’s go.”

Murdoch broke his own speed record getting back to the house. They didn’t speak again, but when Julia glanced at him with a worried frown, he knew she’d figured out their destination.

Pendrick had not moved since Murdoch left. He opened his eyes as they came noisily into the bedroom, and the sight of Julia made him blink. He set aside the knife in resignation. “I should have known.”

“His shoulder has been dislocated,” Murdoch said then. “Can you show me how to reset it?”

“Of course, but he’s bleeding -”

“The shoulder first,” Pendrick requested. “I’m incapacitated till that’s fixed.”

Julia set down her bag and went to work, first examining his shoulder by touch, then instructing Murdoch on how to pull, turn and restore it to its correct position. He did it as carefully as possible, but Pendrick still passed out during the process. It wasn’t until Julia was removing small shards of glass from his knees with a pair of tweezers that he re-awoke with a hiss.

“I’m sorry,” Julia said at once. “As soon as I’m finished here, we’ll need to get your clothes off so that I can see what other injuries you have.”

“Has William told you anything?”

“No. He’s been frustratingly silent on the subject.”

Murdoch had in fact sat down hard in a chair after dealing with Pendrick’s shoulder and was just now regaining his equilibrium. He’d forgotten how difficult it was to see a loved one in pain. When his fiancée had been dying, she’d been heavily medicated.

“James was attacked in the wine cellar,” he began. He’d intended to present it as he would one of his police reports, but just thinking about what had been done to his partner made him tremble with helpless fury. “They tied him up and… and…”

Julia looked from one to the other. Of the two, Pendrick seemed more composed. “William, may I ask you to step out of the room while I continue my examination?”

“ _What?_ ”

“Please. It’s customary for a doctor and patient to have some privacy.”

“I know that, but -”

Pendrick met his eyes. “Go, William. I’m in good hands.”

“But -”

Julia faced him quite sternly. “You brought me here for a reason. Allow me to do my job.”

Murdoch left the room in mental turmoil. He went into his own room, the one they typically shared, and tried to think constructively, but not knowing the details of Pendrick’s attack made that impossible. He needed a plan of retaliation, but he had no idea whom to blame. Sitting alone, unable even to see that Pendrick was safe, was intolerable.

He went into the connecting lavatory and opened the opposite door a few inches, not enough to see into the room but enough to allow him to hear his lover’s voice.

“May I stay here?” he asked in as reasonable a tone as he could muster.

“Yes, you may,” Pendrick replied before Julia could insist otherwise. He and she resumed talking in softer tones. “That occurred when I found them. I’d taken my pistol with me, but I wasn’t expecting three, so one was able to knock it out of my hand while I was distracted by the others.”

“Well, your wrist isn’t broken,” Julia said. “Your ribs are bruised, but they’re intact. That abrasion on your throat isn’t serious either. Your knees will heal. Now are you going to let me examine your other injuries?”

There was a pause, then Pendrick sighed. “I hope you don’t shock easily.”

“If I did, Detective Murdoch wouldn’t have brought me here.”

The sound of rustling bed clothes preceded a long inhalation on Julia’s part. When she finally spoke again, she sounded sad and mystified. “The more I see of human behavior the less I understand it. Why would they do this to you?”

“I can’t say,” Pendrick’s voice was strained, “but they seemed to enjoy it.”

“William?” Julia called. “Could you please bring me some clean towels?”

Murdoch scooped up all the towels in the lavatory and took them into the bedroom. To his relief, the injuries they’d been discussing were covered until he retreated again to his safe location. He leaned his head against the thin wall between them and tried not to envision the behavior Julia had referred to.

“I’m going to leave you some pain pills,” she said as she worked. “And I suggest you use ice on that swelling. Do you have something that can serve as a sling for your arm?”

“Yes.”

“If possible, I’d like you to stay in bed for the next day or so. Exertion might reopen your wounds. If you lose more blood, you’ll need to go to the hospital.”

“Yes, Doctor.”

“William? Will you make sure our patient does as he’s been told?”

Murdoch opened the door again, glad to see Pendrick finally reclining in a position that looked comfortable. “Yes.”

Julia was repacking her medical bag. She stood up, looking very official despite her night attire. “Then there’s only one question: when are you going to report this attack to the police?”

They exchanged a glance. “The extent of my injuries is not to be revealed,” Pendrick stated. He raised a hand that brooked no argument. “I will not have anyone knowing what has been done to me. Either we report the attack as merely a beating, or we do not report it at all. That’s not open for debate.”

She turned to Murdoch. “Do you agree with this, William?”

“Yes, whatever James wants.” He acknowledged her disbelief. “I know I’ve been acting oddly this evening. I can’t explain it right now, but I agree that what has occurred here must not be made public. I’ll find these men and see that they pay for their crime, but not at James’ expense.”

Julia figuratively threw up her hands for the second time that night. “All right, I’ll abide by your judgment in this. I’ll sign the report as the doctor of record.”

“Thank you.”

Murdoch escorted her into the hallway, then went back to Pendrick. The latter looked totally sapped but was not going to take a pain pill until Murdoch got home. He had retrieved the knife and set it next to his pillow.

“I’ll be back as soon as I can,” Murdoch promised softly. Now that he had calmed down, he saw that Pendrick’s right wrist was purple and swollen; he’d been so preoccupied with the larger injuries, he hadn’t observed the smaller ones. Gently he raised his partner’s damaged wrist to his lips and kissed it. “They won’t get away with this.”

“We’ll talk more later,” Pendrick said. “I haven’t told you everything.”

Murdoch’s heart sank, but he didn’t intend to lose control again.

He turned to leave the room only to find Julia standing in the open doorway, mouth agape. She’d undoubtedly seen the kiss. She met his eyes, then preceded him downstairs without a word, only hesitating when she reached the foyer. Since the library light was still on, she went in there before facing him in utter bewilderment.

“Julia, I need you to understand,” Murdoch said at once. He imagined he looked as miserable as he sounded. “This isn’t how I wanted to tell you.”

“You and James Pendrick?”

“Yes.”

“He is whom you’re with? You’re with a man?”

“Yes.”

“By ’with’, you mean involved with? Romantically?” Her voice rose into a slightly higher register than normal. “You’re…”

“I’m homosexual. I had no idea until I got to know him.” He was much too aware of time passing. “Julia, let me take you home. I’ll explain along the way.”

Once they were on the road, Murdoch described Pendrick’s original overture, which happened to come at a particularly low point in his life, his own research on the subject of homosexuality, and the inevitable result. It was good to be able to tell someone, and after listening to him talk about Pendrick for most of the trip, Julia’s stunned silence turned to amazement for another reason all together.

“You’re in love with him,” she concluded. “He is why you’re so happy these days.”

“Yes. It’s mutual.”

“William…”

“I know the risks we’re taking.”

“Now I understand why he doesn’t want knowledge of his rape to get out. It could lead to all the wrong questions.”

Murdoch stopped the carriage in front of her house with shaky hands. Until then he hadn’t managed even to think the word. “May we count on your discretion?”

“Of course.” She alighted before he could climb down. “Go home to him. I’ll wait to see your report tomorrow before I say or do anything.”

“Thank you!”

He saw her go safely inside before setting off back to the house.

Pendrick was half asleep by the time he got there, so they didn’t talk. After swallowing the pain pill and accepting Murdoch’s shoulder as a pillow, he sank quickly into oblivion. Murdoch only wished he could do the same.

 

*****

 

Next day Murdoch finally got the details regarding Pendrick’s attack. By then he’d recovered most of his usual equanimity, and the mere idea of someone hurting his partner in such an intimate fashion no longer made him see red. Pendrick seemed more put out by the inconvenience of his injuries than the indignity of them.

“Their aim was to, and I quote, ‘humiliate, terrify and hurt’ me,” he said once Murdoch had shown that he could remain calm. Murdoch had opted to spend the morning in bed with his patient. “The humiliating part seems obvious. The terrifying part came when they nearly strangled me with that piece of cloth over my face. The painful part…”

“You don’t have to tell me all this.”

“If I don’t, you’ll wonder, and after today, I would really rather never talk about it again.” Pendrick shifted a little so that his arm lay more comfortably. He’d had to take another pain pill, and Murdoch was careful not to jar his bruised and battered body “The most painful part was when I jerked my shoulder out of its socket. I’d nearly gotten my wrists untied, and one of them had my arms twisted behind my back while another tightened the rope. When the third bastard entered me it hurt so damned much I nearly broke my own arm trying to get away.”

“Is that when you passed out?”

“No. I passed out when they were ready to leave. That same bastard kicked me,” He nodded when Murdoch winced. “Yes, there. When he kicked me, I fell onto my shoulder. That’s what made me pass out.”

“Was there anything about the men we could use to identify them? You didn’t see their faces, but did you see their clothing? You said they spoke; was there anything distinctive about their voices?” Murdoch waited, but when Pendrick didn’t answer for several minutes, he felt guilty. “I’m sorry, I shouldn’t ask you to relive any of that.”

“I don’t think I could identify the men, but I haven’t told you the last thing they said.” Pendrick’s tone was flat. “Just before kicking me, the third one said ‘Your missus sends her love’.”

“No…” Murdoch’s brain threatened to shut down again.

“She must have told them how to get into the house.” As he spoke, Pendrick held Murdoch down, just in case. “I was in the library at about eight o’clock when I heard the sound of bottles being broken. It was clearly coming from the wine cellar, so I got my pistol and went downstairs. I’m not sure what I expected to find, but I wasn’t prepared to be set on by three men. I have no idea where my gun went. They didn’t use any weapon other than the knife to cut my clothing.”

“You’re sure you heard them correctly?” Murdoch asked unevenly. He felt ill.

“Yes, they’d indicated earlier that someone had given them instructions.”

“Why would she do this?”

Pendrick closed his eyes. “Why would she want to see me hang? I’ve never known what I did to make her hate me so much.”

They lay together for a long while without speaking. When the initial shock of Sally’s malevolence had worn off, Murdoch told him of his revelation to Julia the previous night. In retrospect, her caring and generous response was the antithesis of Sally’s wrath, and Murdoch was more thankful than ever that he knew her.

It was long after lunch, which neither had shown any appetite for, before Murdoch finally got dressed and went down to the cellar. The smell there was worse than ever, so he didn’t stay long: he determined that Pendrick’s pistol was nowhere to be found and that the lock on the outside door had been broken open, then left quickly. Someone else would have to collect the glass shards to be tested for finger marks.

He arrived at the morgue shortly before Julia’s shift ended. She’d been waiting for him, and together they walked to the station in order to fill out a police report on the attack. Their solemnity was noticed, but only Constable Crabtree had the gumption to ask about it. When he heard who the victim of the beating was, his eyes grew wide, and it was only when Murdoch gave him a subtle nod to indicate that Julia knew the truth that he relaxed.

“We’ll get the description of the men out immediately, Sir,” he said before reading the report. Once he had, his enthusiasm wilted a bit. “We’ll question all known thugs?”

“Have the constables ask around to see if anyone has come into some unexplained money,” Murdoch advised. “We have reason to believe these men were hired rather than acting on their own. See if anyone has been bragging about an assault on a wealthy businessman. Or if anyone was seen late last night stinking of wine. They must have gotten it on their clothing. Also send someone to the house to gather up the broken glass in the cellar. Some of the pieces might be large enough to retain a finger mark. Test the outside door handle too.”

“Will do, Sir. Is Mr. Pendrick going to be all right?”

Murdoch gave him a small smile of reassurance since Crabtree’s concern was genuine “Yes, George. Dr. Ogden tended to his injuries last night and said he’ll make a full recovery.”

“That’s good to hear.”

It was as Murdoch escorted Julia home that he told her whom they now suspected of arranging the attack. Her outrage nearly matched his own.

“That’s reprehensible! You have to tell Agent Meyers!” she exclaimed. “That woman should be in prison!”

“I couldn’t agree more.”

“What are you going to do?”

“Hopefully find evidence leading to one of the men so that we can interrogate him and get him to implicate her.”

“That’s all?”

“What else can I do?” Murdoch stopped with her outside her house. “Agent Meyers obviously doesn’t care what crimes Sally has committed. He has one goal, and if he finds out what was done to James, he could use it as leverage to get the oscillator.”

“Then let him have it!”

“That’s up to James.”

“Of course it is. Good-night, William.” Julia let her exasperation carry her into the building, where Ruby greeted her with raised brows. Murdoch was closed out.

 

*****

 

Early next morning, long before the servants arrived, Murdoch and Pendrick were awakened by a pounding at the front door. Murdoch went to the window, saw that it was Crabtree, and called down to him. He then watched comprehension dawn as the constable realized why he was in a different bedroom than usual.

“Has there been a murder?” Murdoch asked wearily.

“No, Sir. I mean, yes, Sir.” Crabtree made some hand gestures that apparently meant he needed to come inside and talk privately. Assuming his presence there had something to do with Pendrick’s attack, Murdoch pulled on his robe and hurried downstairs. He ushered Crabtree into the library, where the latter got straight to the point.

“Detective Murdoch, I’m not here officially,” he began. “I mean, officially, I’m not here.”

“You’d better explain that, Constable.”

“I’m acting on my own best judgment, Sir. If I’m wrong, just tell me so and I’ll go back to the station. But there’s something happening that you need to know about, and the sooner the better.”

Murdoch could see he was nervous, a quality Crabtree rarely exhibited no matter what he was asked to do in the line of duty. “George, tell me.”

“The body of Sally Pendrick was found late last night in an alley behind the boarding house she’d been living in. A neighbor found her, well, a street walker, to be exact. I was still at the station working on finding the men who attacked Mr. Pendrick, so I was the one who took the call. Higgins and I went ‘round to the boarding house and searched Mrs. Pendrick’s room, as well as spoke to some of the other residents.”

Murdoch hadn’t quite gotten past his first words. “Sally is dead?”

“Yes, Sir. The night clerk at the morgue guessed she’d been dead since afternoon, but no one had been in that part of the alley from mid-morning until the street walker brought her customer there around eleven o’clock yesterday evening. Dr. Ogden will do the full autopsy when she gets in this morning. But what I need to tell you is that I found evidence in Mrs. Pendrick’s room implicating you in her murder.”

“Me _?_ Wait, did you say murder?”

“Yes, Sir.” Crabtree had never looked younger, or more sleep deprived. “I found a note she’d begun writing to Agent Meyers that said you’d confronted her about the attack on Mr. Pendrick and that she was afraid you were going to do something rash. She told one of the other residents the same thing.”

“That’s ridiculous.”

“The other resident also claims Mrs. Pendrick pointed you out to her one evening outside the boarding house.”

“Pointed me out?” Murdoch recalled his ride to that area just to see where Sally was living. “I did go by there, but that was days before the attack. I haven’t been there since.”

“Have you an alibi for your whereabouts yesterday afternoon? Other than Mr. Pendrick?”

“No, but I’ll hardly need one. Once we’ve processed the crime scene we’ll have evidence leading to the real murderer.” He hadn’t gotten his head around it yet. “How was she killed?”

“Very gruesomely,” Crabtree admitted. “She was shot and then some sort of acid was poured on her. Apparently a crime of passion.”

“What does Inspector Brackenreid make of the letter?”

“That’s just it, Sir. He hasn’t seen it. No one has. I took it with me.”

“ _You took evidence_?”

The constable paled. “Detective Murdoch, it was a _very_ incriminating letter.”

He fumbled it out of his breast pocket and offered it to Murdoch, who used a handkerchief to accept it. He’d expected an ambiguously worded missive in which Sally attempted to justify her failure to coax her way back into Pendrick’s life. What it actually said made his heart catch in his throat. It not only described her discovery of her ex-husband and his ‘friend’ in bed together, but it said straight out that Murdoch had threatened her life for supposedly being involved in the rape of James Pendrick. It was dated the day before and left unfinished.

“This is a lie,” Murdoch declared. He stared at Crabtree in horror. “George, I did not see or speak to her after the attack. I never threatened her.”

“Then she must have been planning to frame you in some way, and she just happened to be killed before she could send the letter to Agent Meyers.”

“How likely is that?”

“She _was_ a very independent lady, Sir. I expect there were others who wanted her dead.”

Murdoch had no doubt about that, but it didn’t help his position. “Did the other resident mention Sally finding us in bed together?” He blushed as he said it, but it was too late for tact.

“No, that only appeared in the letter.”

“Who’s working the case?”

“Inspector Brackenreid himself. Once Constable Higgins told him that you were named as a suspect, he stepped in. Came to the station at the crack of dawn.”

That told Murdoch what sort of mood his superior would be in.

Feeling a bit like he’d been on a ship at sea, riding a crest only to be dropped into one abyss after another, Murdoch squared his shoulders. He told himself he was finished reacting to other people’s plots and ploys. It was time to retake control of the situation.

“George, return to the station,” he ordered. “Please do not show anyone that letter. I’m sorry to ask you that, but it’s a red herring at best and the end of my career at worst.” Crabtree nodded eagerly. “I’ll be in as soon as I’ve dressed, and we’ll sort this out.”

“Yes, Sir.”

Upstairs Murdoch was startled to find Pendrick in the hallway leaning casually against the bannister. He’d foregone a pajama top but managed to get his sling in place. Murdoch immediately took his good arm to guide him back to his room. “You’re supposed to be in bed.”

“I’m fine. And so, I’m pleased to say, are you. I was worried for a while there.” Pendrick leaned in to kiss Murdoch on the lips. “It was a distasteful experience, my love, but not the end of the world.”

“For me it might have been,” Murdoch said frankly. “If I’d been raped, I would have wanted to crawl into a hole and die.”

“That’s not my style.”

“You heard what Crabtree said about Sally?”

“Yes, and I’ll be damned if that bitch is going to ruin our lives posthumously. Go find out who killed her.”

“Yes, Sir.” Murdoch kissed him back quickly and ducked into his own room to dress.

Station No. 4 was unusually busy for that time of the morning. When Murdoch went in, the first person he saw was Julia, who had also been sent for long before her regular hours. She immediately followed him into his office and closed the door.

“I’ve heard,” he said at once. “George came for me. What have you found out?”

Julia was looking a bit green. “It’s horrible, William. Someone used sulfuric acid to destroy much of her body, in particular her female parts, her hands, feet and face. It’s a mercy that she was already dead from the gun shot.” She met his eyes. “My impression is that someone hated her so much, he wanted to eradicate everything she was.” When Murdoch only looked thoughtful, she added, “It happened yesterday, between two and four in the afternoon. A short time before you arrived at the morgue.”

“You have no doubts about me, do you, Julia?”

“Of course not, but Sally’s friend, Miss Hillis, has given your name and description to Inspector Brackenreid. The whole station will know of it by now.”

“It’s all either hearsay or circumstantial,” Murdoch said confidently. “When we… _they_ have processed the evidence at the murder scene, they’ll have nothing else to connect me to the murder, because I wasn’t there.”

His certainty seemed to reassure her, and Julia returned to the morgue in better color. It wasn’t until Brackenreid came in with several boxes of evidence that Murdoch ventured out of his office to see what they’d discovered.

The inspector had circles under his eyes, but he wasn’t barking, which Murdoch wasn’t sure how to interpret. “Nasty business all around,” he said shortly. “We’ve got all sorts of evidence from that alley, but it remains to be seen how much of it is relevant. It’s all going over to the lab.”

“What can I do to help, Sir?” Murdoch asked.

“You can make a written statement as to your whereabouts yesterday afternoon. We all know you weren’t here.” Brackenreid paused. “I heard about Mr. Pendrick’s assault. Is he all right?”

“Yes, he’ll be fine.”

“Good. According to the report, he has no idea who was behind it. Have you learned anything to connect it to the late Mrs. P?”

Murdoch had his answer ready. “One of the men said something derogatory about Mr. Pendrick’s ‘missus’. There was no indication that they knew Sally personally.” He didn’t want to give the inspector time to mull that over, so he asked, “Has Agent Meyers been informed of her death?”

“No, but feel free to tell him.”

Murdoch had no intention of doing so.

By afternoon most of the evidence had been sorted and the bits that seemed important put under a magnifying glass. The first Murdoch knew of a new development was when he received a telephone call from Pendrick alerting him that the police were at the house. They’d collected all the evidence to be found in the cellar, but then insisted on going upstairs to search his room as well. Pendrick didn’t say it in so many words, but Murdoch could tell by his tone that he could be overheard, and also that he’d had time to arrange both bedrooms to appear slept in. He kept Murdoch on the line while they went through his room with a fine toothed comb. Just as Murdoch was about to suggest it wasn’t necessary, Pendrick spoke again, his voice low.

“William, they’ve found something. I couldn’t see what, but they’re taking out more than one evidence bag.” He left the telephone for a moment then came back. “Something’s not right. They’re behaving as though they’ve got a real case against you.”

“That’s impossible,” Murdoch stated.

“Nothing is impossible where Sally is concerned… They want to talk to me. I’ll call you back.”

Murdoch finished with the file he’d been updating, then went straight to the morgue, arriving to find Julia alone with a covered corpse. Her apron was blood-smeared, and she was just removing a pair of gloves. When she noticed him at the door, she reluctantly tried to bar him from entering the room.

“William, you’re a suspect. You can’t touch the evidence.”

“I don’t want to touch it. I don’t even know what it is,” he protested. “Have you been instructed not to tell me?”

“No, but your merely being here can be construed as contamination.”

“Don’t I have a right to know what evidence they’ve got against me?”

“Yes, of course, once you’ve been charged -”

She broke off, looking past him with relief. When Murdoch turned, Inspector Brackenreid spoke up from where he’d just come in carrying some evidence bags. He handed them to Julia. “Test the hairs,” he said. “We already have a positive identification on the ring.”

None of that made sense to Murdoch. He watched as Julia examined a few strands of hair under her microscope. When she compared them to a previous sample, she drew in her breath and had to sit down.

“They match?” Brackenreid asked. Julia nodded, unable to look at either of them. The inspector took a deep breath. “Detective William Murdoch, you’re under arrest for the murder of Sally Pendrick.” Murdoch was too stunned to respond. “You may contact an attorney after you’ve been booked,” Brackenreid added, his voice grim, “or your housemate’s attorney more likely.”

“Julia, what did you find?” Murdoch demanded.

It was Brackenreid who replied. “Hairs found on the body have been matched to hairs taken from your brush, and I’ve no doubt they’ll match the ones on your head. We also found a ring in your jewelry case that matches one stolen from the deceased. Her wedding ring, as it happens, confirmed by Mr. Pendrick. It was seen in her possession two days ago.” He gave Murdoch a chance to absorb that. “We also found the murder weapon nearby in the alley, a Browning revolver that matches the type we know belongs to Mr. Pendrick and which you had access to.”

“That was taken during the attack -” Murdoch tried to say.

“We only have your word for that. According to Mr. Pendrick, he hasn’t been back to the cellar since, so he doesn’t know whether it was taken or not. It could very well have been left behind for you to find.”

“I’m being framed, you must see that.”

“By whom?” Brackenreid waited, but Murdoch had no good answer. “We also found a handkerchief in the alley with blood on it. The blood matches the victim, and the linen matches several found in your dresser.”

“Julia? Please tell me you don’t believe any of this.”

“It gets worse,” the inspector interrupted. “A receipt for two large bottles of sulfuric acid was found in your nightstand.”

Julia had apparently had time to think it over. She came and took his hands in both of hers, and he’d never been happier to see her steady gaze. “William, anyone who has ever met you couldn’t possibly believe you capable of murder.” She glared pointedly at Brackenreid for a minute. “Obviously you’re being framed, and I shall do everything in my power to prove that.”

“Thank God.” Murdoch finally let the inspector lead him toward the door. At the last second, he faced Julia and mouthed, “Talk to George.” When she nodded, he knew hope was not lost.

 

*****

 

Never, in all the times Murdoch had visited Pendrick in jail to question him about his supposed crimes, had Murdoch imagined the tables being turned. Under other circumstances he would have been mortified to be seen in a cell, but when Pendrick showed up at the station, attorney in tow, he was too relieved to care. That lasted until Pendrick stopped outside the bars and shook his head, lips tight. His arm was in the sling, but he was walking now without a noticeable limp.

“They won’t release you,” he said angrily. “You’re considered a flight risk.”

“But I’m a policeman.”

“Exactly. They assume that if anyone knows how to evade re-capture, it would be you.”

“I’m not interested in evading anything. I need to be free to prove my innocence!”

“Give us time.” Pendrick glanced toward the door, but there was no one within earshot. “I’m meeting with Julia and Constable Crabtree this evening to try to make sense of all this. Between us, we’ll get you out of here.”

“I have to spend the night?” Murdoch was honestly dismayed, and not just because the small space smelled of its previous occupants. He hadn’t slept apart from Pendrick since the night of their union, and now of all times he wanted to be there in case his partner had nightmares about his assault. “Will you be all right alone?”

The love in Pendrick’s eyes made up for any hardship. “Yes, my dear, I will,” he whispered. “Will you?”

“What choice do I have?” Murdoch relented when Pendrick frowned a little. “I’ll be fine. It will be very quiet here.” He indicated the empty cells around him. “I’ll be able to concentrate on figuring this mess out.”

“Be sure to get some sleep as well.” Pendrick shot him a very lascivious look. “Because when you’re home and this,” he held up his damaged arm, “is healed, I’ll need you to be well rested.”

That was all Murdoch had to hold him over till morning; Crabtree must have gone home to get some sleep, and Brackenreid apparently had nothing further to say to him.

It was Julia who came by first thing next day, bringing Murdoch a cold breakfast. While he ate awkwardly on his cot, she quietly told him what had been determined at their meeting.

“It seems certain that Sally was in your house at some point. If what she said in that letter is true, she must have been there at night, snooping around. However based on the evidence that was found, she or someone else must have come back when you and James were out. Her wedding ring and that receipt were left in your room, possibly because someone discovered that you weren’t sleeping there while James was healing.” Julia’s cheeks were a pretty pink, but she didn’t shy away from being frank. “We think that Sally was conspiring with someone to incriminate you, and that her partner decided to take advantage of her plan to get rid of her. He or she planted the hairs taken from your brush at the murder scene, as well as the handkerchief.”

“But whom could that be? Sally wasn’t the type to trust anyone,” Murdoch said.

“Constable Crabtree is trying to eliminate the other residents of the boarding house. James is going to contact Agent Meyers to find out how Sally was caught and where she’d been for the past year and a half. I’m going over all the evidence again to see if we missed something.”

“If James asks Meyers for help, Meyers will expect him to cooperate in return. He’ll want the oscillator.”

“James knows that, and he said he’ll deal with it.”

Murdoch pushed the tray away. “Meyers can be devious and ruthless, but I don’t believe he’s a killer. Otherwise this whole thing reeks of his handiwork.”

“He’s far from innocent. He knew what sort of creature Sally Pendrick was when he sent her to coerce James into selling that invention. Meyers set this whole tragedy into motion, and I’d like to see him suffer some of the consequences.” She sounded so like an avenging angel that Murdoch had to smile. “Yes, I know he’s above the law, but that doesn’t mean he should always get his way.”

“Is there anything I can do from in here?”

“No, not unless you think of another lead. Crabtree will come by at lunchtime to give you an update.”

“And James?”

She patted his hand as she picked up the breakfast tray. “He’ll come by this evening.”

It was one of the longest days of Murdoch’s life. He was able to talk Constable Higgins into bringing him some books from his office, but for once they didn’t hold his attention. He itched to be out investigating, processing clues and making diagrams. Being locked up where most of his colleagues were too embarrassed to speak to him was sheer frustration.

When Crabtree came in with lunch, Murdoch was pacing his cell.

“George, get me out of here,” he requested, ignoring the meal. “I should be doing something!”

“I’m sorry, Sir,’ Crabtree said aloud, then dropped his voice dramatically. “I’ve been able to discover that Mrs. Pendrick spent much of her time away from her room at the boarding house, but no one there knows where. I’ve got people asking around.” Murdoch simply gripped the bars in impatience. “Dr. Ogden has tested all the evidence again, even the pieces that don’t appear to have any bearing on your case. She hasn’t found anything conclusive yet. Most of the glass pieces from your cellar were too small to produce a clear finger mark, and the wine seems to have corrupted the ones she did find.” Murdoch made a concerted effort to loosen the bars in their settings. “Mr. Pendrick hasn’t come back from Agent Meyers’ office.”

“How long has he been there?”

“Several hours now. That would be a good sign, wouldn’t it?”

“…Not necessarily.”

By the time Pendrick arrived along with his dinner, Murdoch was wondering how the man had survived weeks of being locked up. For an active mind such as his, imprisonment had to have been torture.

“I’m sorry,” Murdoch said as soon as the constable who’d carried the tray had gone. Pendrick quirked an eyebrow. “For putting you through this a couple of years ago. I had no idea how demoralizing being in jail is when you’re innocent.”

Pendrick let that go by; not only was it ancient history, but he had more important news to share. “I’ve spoken to Agent Meyers and he’s on your side, for what’s it’s worth. He doesn’t believe you killed Sally. She hadn’t reported back to him since we spoke to her at the house, so he doesn’t know what her plan was, but he’s going to launch his own investigation. If she was working with someone else, he needs to know who and why.”

That brought Murdoch up short. “He thinks there’s a connection to the work she was doing for him?”

“It’s a possibility he has to explore. His people caught up with Sally in Halifax attempting to board a ship for Europe. She never revealed what she’d been up to since her escape from Toronto, but knowing my dear wife, she found a man to manipulate into helping her. Meyers is wondering whether that man might have followed her back here, confronted her, and killed her.”

“Has he told Inspector Brackenreid his theory?”

“Yes, but until he has some evidence, it doesn’t change your situation.”

Murdoch sank down on his cot. “What does Meyers want in return for helping me?”

“We’ve reached a compromise,” Pendrick said drily. “Once my oscillator is fully functional, I’ve agreed to offer it to Meyers before anyone else. If he can meet my minimum asking price, it’s his.” He managed a thin smile. “It appears our heated indoor pool may have to wait for my next brilliant invention.”

“I’m sorry.” Murdoch said again.

“My dear William, it is I who should be apologizing to you. It was my incredibly poor judgment in marrying Sally that has resulted in this debacle.”

“I wish I could come home.”

“As do I.” Pendrick moved to stand between Murdoch and the door leading to the main area of the station. “I miss you.”

Murdoch appreciated having his expression hidden from passers-by, because he was sure it was revealing. “I miss you too.”

“Julia, Constable Crabtree and I are meeting again this evening to compare notes. I think Crabtree is on to something. Sally must have had contacts among Toronto’s criminal classes to be able to hire those brutes to attack me. If she wasn’t reporting to Meyers and she’d given up trying to seduce me, what was she doing between the time we spoke to her and her death? According to the women at her boarding house, she didn’t spend much time there.”

“Has Crabtree circulated a photograph of her?”

“Yes, but without any luck so far.”

“So I have to spend another night in jail.” Murdoch couldn’t help sounding dejected.

“I’m afraid so. Julia will come by in the morning. Do you need anything?”

“Nothing you can give me here.”

Pendrick chuckled under his breath. “Was that an innuendo, William? Your first?” Murdoch blushed, although he honestly hadn’t meant it that way. “Try to sleep. I’ll see you tomorrow.”

They managed to clasp hands briefly through the bars, then Pendrick left him to pass another long night in his lonely cell.

 

*****

 

Julia was in surprisingly good spirits when she came by the next morning, while Murdoch suspected he looked as wan as he felt.

“William, I believe we’re making progress,” she announced when he merely set his breakfast tray aside. “I found a blonde hair on what was left of Sally’s clothing that doesn’t match hers. There are no women at the boarding house with hair that length, so it must belong to someone she met elsewhere.”

“That… doesn’t narrow it down much.”

“Also, by sheer chance, we’ve made another discovery.” Now the excitement in her voice caused him to pay closer attention. “There was a mugging the night of Mr. Pendrick’s assault. No one was injured, but a gun was fired. I noticed while reading the report that the bullet they recovered was from a Browning revolver.” She smiled when his eyes lit up. “Yes, it matched the gun used to kill Sally. The mugging had to have been the work of those men in the cellar, and we have a description!”

“Are we thinking that one of them murdered Sally?”

“Inspector Brackenreid has the entire city looking for them, so hopefully we’ll soon know.”

“And the blonde hair?”

“We might be able to match it to one of their associates. If we can establish a connection between the muggers and Sally, it might be enough to get you out of here, whether or not they confess to the attack.”

Murdoch couldn’t sit still any longer. He began pacing the few steps his cell allowed him. “But if we have proof that the gun was in their possession, how can I still be a suspect?”

“We know it was in their possession the night of the mugging, but not what happened to it afterward. The other evidence against you is too strong.”

He stopped in front of her. “Julia, I’m useless in here. I should be out there leading the investigation.”

“I know.” Julia shook her head helplessly. “Constable Crabtree will -”

“Bring me an update when he brings lunch, yes.”

“Bear up, William. And eat something.” She exited as if the freedom to walk out a door were a God-given right.

Constable Crabtree wasn’t quite as optimistic as Julia when he came by, but he too had news.

“Mrs. Pendrick was seen talking to a few of the street walkers outside her boarding house,” he reported, reading from his notebook. “The ones who remember her say she was interested in meeting others in their line of work, but higher class, if you will. We were able to track her to a brothel on Macaffee Street, where she met with one of the women privately.” Crabtree looked up. “That woman subsequently moved out of the brothel and no one has seen her since. I think we’ve found Mrs. Pendrick’s accomplice, Sir.”

“A woman?” Murdoch was about to protest that Sally was more likely to charm a man to her will, but he was learning that anything was possible. “What do we know about her?”

“She was calling herself Dolly O’Day, which I suspect is not her given name.” Crabtree was nothing if not ingenuous. “She’d been at the brothel for only a few months, although I understand that’s not unusual. My Aunt Zinnia runs a similar establishment in New Brunswick and has remarked that the turnover is -”

“George.”

“By all accounts, Miss O’Day could pass for a lady when she wanted to. I’m thinking that perhaps she and Mrs. Pendrick had a history in Montreal, or wherever the victim was originally from.”

“We’ve never known for sure,” Murdoch mused. “Can I assume we’ve circulated Miss O’Day’s photograph?”

“Yes, Sir. We’ve even posted it in the newspapers.”

“Good thinking. Has there been any progress on finding the muggers?”

“We’ve identified one or two persons of interest, but we’ve yet to locate them.”

Murdoch was suddenly ravenous. He thanked Crabtree and was halfway through his lunch before the constable had locked the outer door.

To his alarm, it was Julia who brought his dinner. He’d been anxiously awaiting a visit from his partner, and while the sight of his favorite doctor always delighted him, she was not what he needed.

“Where is James?” he inquired evenly, inwardly braced for more bad news.             “He’s here at the station,” she assured him. “The constables have brought in some men who might be his attackers. He’s been asked to try to identify them.”

“He’s been asked to meet his rapists face to face?” Murdoch was ready to have another go at loosening the metal bars, but Julia shushed him.

“The police don’t know about that. As far as they know, he’s meeting the men who beat him, that’s all.” Her eyes flashed. “I offered to go with him, but he declined.”

Murdoch sat down and put his head in his hands. He knew Pendrick was strong, but this was something else again. “How certain are they that these are the right men?”

“They’re known associates of the woman whom Sally recruited from the brothel. Our best guess is that’s how Sally made contact to hire them. If Mr. Pendrick is able to identify even one of them, both Inspector Brackenreid and Agent Meyers will interrogate all three.” Julia glanced around the narrow hallway in exasperation. “Why can’t they keep a chair in here?”

“I’d offer you my seat,” Murdoch muttered, “but you’d probably prefer to stand.”

“Very amusing. I’m glad to see you’re maintaining a sense of humor. Or begun developing one,” she added under her breath. Murdoch wondered if he’d heard her correctly. “I have to go now, William. Ruby left me a very cryptic message this afternoon which I need to talk to her about.”

“Does she know what’s been occupying your time?”

“Only what she’s read in the papers or picked up from chatting with the constables. I haven’t told her anything confidential.”

“Please give her my regards,” Murdoch said. “And… could you ask James to come by when he’s finished?”

“Of course.”

When Murdoch checked the time a while later, he found that his watch had stopped. Winding it had been the last thing on his mind during his incarceration. Without a window in his cell, he had no idea what hour it was when Pendrick finally showed up.

The latter looked tired but not traumatized.

“Well, that was an interview I’d rather not repeat any time soon,” he remarked when Murdoch rose to approach the bars. “Presumably Julia told you why I was delayed?”

“Yes. Are you all right?”

“I could use a stiff drink, but otherwise I’m fine.”

“They were the same men?”

Pendrick nodded. “I recognized the voices straight away, as well as the body odor.” He didn’t dwell on whatever memories that had stirred. “Oddly enough, they seemed more willing to cooperate once they realized that they were being accused of assault but not rape. I suppose they could be hoping to use that detail to make some sort of deal with the prosecutor.” He continued thinking aloud, “I’ll have to talk to the man, make sure that whatever they tell him is kept in confidence. He owes me a favor.”

“They confessed that Sally hired them to attack you?” Murdoch asked, finally seeing a light at the end of his tunnel.

“They confessed that the woman they know as Dolly O’Day hired them, claiming that Sally was the instigator,” Pendrick corrected. “They were paid well, so Dolly was certainly not acting on her own. They haven’t seen Dolly since the day of the murder either, not since they gave her my pistol. Naturally they didn’t tell her they’d used it in a mugging.”

“Then it appears that Dolly is the killer.”

“The police are still looking for her. At this point, nothing those men have said clears you, William; they’ve actually confirmed your motive for murdering Sally. If she had the gun in her possession, you could have taken it from her that day and shot her.”

Murdoch wanted to pound his head against the wall. “Even dead that woman is causing us nothing but trouble.” Suddenly impatient with subterfuge, he reached for his lover’s hand and held it firmly for several minutes. “James, that meeting had to be difficult. Will you be all right tonight?”

“My love,” Pendrick spoke softly, “I will be fine. I’m not the fragile blossom you seem to think me. Don’t worry, I’ll come back in the morning and try to stay for a while.”

That had to suffice to get Murdoch through another empty night.

 

*****

 

When Murdoch woke next day, he knew at once that it was later than usual. No one had come in with breakfast, and through the small window in the door to the main room he couldn’t see any activity. He briefly considered calling out, but it wasn’t in his nature to be a bother without a good reason.

When the door eventually opened, both Julia and Pendrick came in. Murdoch had a hard time deciding which face he was happier to see: Julia’s was shining, but Pendrick’s was the one he’d been missing.

“William, the most incredible thing!” Julia began. She pulled a newspaper clipping out of her pocket and held it out. “What do you see?”

The clipping was a photograph of a young blonde woman. She was a stranger to Murdoch, but from her arch smile and eye makeup, he guessed that this was the infamous Dolly O’Day. “Has Miss O’Day been found?”

“I believe so!” Julia turned to Pendrick to let him explain, but he seemed to be enjoying her elation too. “I didn’t see the photograph till this morning, and at first glance she’s obviously not Sally. However, take a second look.” Murdoch did so, starting to understand. “Same blonde hair, same age, similar body type.”

“And she hasn’t been seen since the murder,” Pendrick added.

“The body was so disfigured we only identified her as Sally by her clothing and the papers in her purse,” Julia went on. “We can’t even get any finger marks; I know because I tried today. There was nothing till now to indicate that it _isn’t_ Sally Pendrick _.”_

“Except a blonde hair that doesn’t match the victim.” For a moment Murdoch even forgot he was behind bars. “Can we match it to Sally’s hair?”

Pendrick took over the story. “We had your constable go through the items found in Sally’s room, and there was no hair brush.”

“Which is ludicrous,” Julia interjected confidently. “Every woman owns a hair brush.”

“Which gave us the idea that other things might be missing. Crabtree spoke to the other women at the boarding house and came up with a list of items that Sally was known to possess but which were not found in her room. Small things like a necklace or a pair of shoes.” Pendrick smiled widely for the first time since his wife had come back into their lives. “I’ll wager the cost of my oscillator that Sally is alive and laughing her evil ass off somewhere.”

Murdoch had never imagined being glad to know that the bane of his life was alive. “Have you told the Inspector yet?”

“Yes, but he needs proof. James and I are on our way to the morgue to examine the body again. If anyone can find an anomaly, it will be her husband.”

Pendrick did not look as certain, but Murdoch had faith in him. He hadn’t thought he could identify his attackers either.

After they’d gone, Murdoch sat down to contemplate this new development. That lasted approximately five minutes, then he was on his feet and yelling for someone to come back to the cell area. Crabtree appeared almost instantly.

“George, you have to get me out of here!” Murdoch begged. “Where is Brackenreid?”

“Right here,” the inspector said following the constable in. “Simmer down, Murdoch. If Dr. Ogden is right, you’ll be out of here today -”

“If Dr. Ogden is right, Sally Pendrick is alive out there. She’s killed more than once, and her freedom is on the line. If she learns that we suspect the truth, there’s no telling what she might do.”

“If she’s smart, she’ll be halfway to Vancouver by now.”

“Sally Pendrick is smart, ruthless and conniving. She went to a lot of effort to frame me; I’d be very surprised if she left Toronto before seeing me hang.”

Brackenreid swore, then waved Crabtree out of the way in order to unlock Murdoch’s cell himself. “You realize you’d be safer in jail, my lad.”

“It’s not me I’m worried about.”

Murdoch didn’t take the time to fetch his hat and coat from his office, nor did he care that he looked like someone who hadn’t bathed in three days. He headed straight for the morgue, only pausing when he burst in to find Julia and Pendrick standing over the ravaged corpse.

He hadn’t seen it till now and was momentarily shocked at the damage the acid had done to a formerly attractive young woman. Recalling that Sally had been inside the house while he and Pendrick were asleep made him feel sick.

“William!” Julia exclaimed. “What’s happened?”

Pendrick went toward him rather than linger by the body. “Tell me you haven’t broken out of jail.”

“Or course not.” He quickly explained his reasoning regarding Sally’s whereabouts. Julia’s reaction said she hadn’t considered that; Pendrick’s said all too clearly that he had. “Have you found anything to prove this isn’t her?”

“Nothing definite,” Julia admitted. She covered the body in deference to their inability to look straight at it. “Every distinguishing mark has been eradicated. There’s nothing to prove this is Miss O’Day either.”

“What about internally?” Murdoch asked. “Had Sally had her appendix removed?”

“Not that I’m aware of,” Pendrick replied, “but it could have been done before we met.”

“Even her teeth have been destroyed to the point that dental records won’t help.” Julia sat down at her work table. Murdoch hadn’t noticed till then how exhausted she appeared. She’d been going through the same emotional ride as he and Pendrick, with much less reward to look forward to at the end of it.

“How are you, Julia?” he asked quickly.

“I’m fine, William,” she said levelly. “I’m just being pulled in too many directions right now. I haven’t gotten any work done on my other cases since this began. Darcy calls me daily to ask what my intentions are. Ruby went running off to Windsor yesterday, and I have no idea why. Now there might be a murderer loose whose freedom depends on our not solving this case.”

“I’m sorry.” Murdoch bent down to grasp her hand. “This isn’t what you expected when you came back to Toronto.”

“No, it isn’t,” she agreed. She met his eyes and then looked from him to Pendrick. “I’m not blaming either of you. It was my decision to move to Buffalo, and my decision to come back without notice.” She took a deep breath, and the hardness left her voice, replaced by calm professionalism. “This is the work I’ve chosen to do, and I do it very well. We’ll find the proof we need.”

“Thank you, Dr. Ogden,” Pendrick said simply.

While Murdoch went home to wash up and change clothes, they stayed at the morgue wracking their brains for some small detail that Sally might have overlooked. He really couldn’t help with that. He could however return to the station and read through all the reports and witness statements collected for the case. If nothing else, a fresh pair of eyes might see something the inspector had missed.

He’d finished and was questioning Crabtree in the outer room when Ruby arrived. She generally liked to make an entrance, and this was no exception: wafting in on the arm of a thin man in a long coat, she immediately zeroed in on Murdoch.

“Detective,” she said loudly, drawing her companion along, “I’d like you to meet Sally Hubbard’s husband.”

“Excuse me?” Inspector Brackenreid came to the door of his office. “You what?”

The man with her didn’t seem nearly as eager to be the center of attention. He removed his hat and looked as if being surrounded by policemen was the last place he wanted to be, but Ruby simply turned him to face Murdoch.

“This is Mr. Franklin Hubbard,” she stated. “Of Windsor, where over ten years ago he married the woman you know as Sally Pendrick. And, might I add, never divorced her.” She positively twinkled in the stunned silence this induced. “Isn’t that right, Mr. Hubbard?”

“It is.” Hubbard’s voice came out about twenty decibels lower than hers.

“In my office,” Brackenreid barked. “Now.”

By the time Murdoch, Crabtree, Ruby and Mr. Hubbard had crowded into the small space, Brackenreid had evidently remembered that the latter was there of his own free will. Hubbard was given the seat opposite the desk, where he hunched inward and watched those around him like a rabbit beset by hounds.

Ruby attempted to retake center stage. “I imagine you’re wondering how I found Mr. Hubbard,” she said at once, “given that I had limited information and no assistance from the police.”

“Yes, Miss Ogden, we are,” Murdoch said when she paused for a prompt.

“You may all know that I have contacts among the press,” she announced. “When I heard that you were seeking this woman whose maiden name you incorrectly assumed was Hubbard, I used my contacts to track down anyone by that name in the province. There happens to be an enclave of Hubbards in Windsor, so I had my contact there search the public records for the name Sally. To my amazement,” her eyes opened wide to indicate her reaction, “he found a marriage certificate under that name. I went to see Mr. Hubbard to ask about his wife, and he was able to provide an old photograph of her. It was definitely Sally Pendrick.”

She wiggled gloved fingers at Hubbard, who obediently produced a grubby photograph. Murdoch took it from him gingerly, but even through the grime he had no doubt that this was the woman they were seeking. Sally looked younger and blonder, but her eyes were sharp. The man standing next to her was a younger, straighter version of Hubbard.

“Mr. Hubbard, is it true that you and Sally never divorced?” Murdoch asked. Part of him wanted to crow at the fact that Pendrick and she had never been legally married, but he restrained himself.

“It’s true,” Hubbard said readily, now that it appeared he wasn’t going to be charged with anything. “Sally ran off one day and I never saw her again. Couldn’t divorce her if I’d wanted to, not on my income.”

“You never heard from her?”

“No, not a word. I had a good idea why she left, of course. I wasn’t able to give her the life she deserved. She was one beautiful woman, and smart like you wouldn’t believe. I never understood why she married me.” He shrugged. “Me, I’m a sucker for blondes.”

Ruby took that as her cue to preen. “When I told Mr. Hubbard what Sally had been up to in Toronto, he insisted on coming back with me.” From Hubbard’s expression, Murdoch suspected that wasn’t quite how it happened. “He would like to see her body so that he can lay his wife to rest and get on with his life.”

“Oh dear,” Crabtree said.

“What do you mean, ‘oh dear’?” Ruby turned to him, for the first time seeming to realize that there was more going on than she was aware of.

Murdoch and the others exchanged glances, and it was left to him to explain.

“Mr. Hubbard, in the time since Miss Ogden traveled to Windsor, we’ve made a disconcerting discovery. The body we initially identified as Sally Pendrick might be that of another woman entirely.”

Hubbard didn’t display much surprise. “I see. I didn’t think she was one to get herself killed in an alley. My Sally could take care of herself.”

“But it’s still helpful to know she was married, isn’t it?” Ruby demanded.

“Very helpful,” Murdoch agreed. “In fact, perhaps Mr. Hubbard can assist our coroner in determining for certain whether the body is that of his wife. We’ve run out of ideas. Her current… the man who believed he was her husband hasn’t been able to help.”

“Married well the second time, did she?” Hubbard was remarkably pragmatic about his spouse’s activities. “Good for her.”

With Brackenreid’s approval, Murdoch volunteered to be the one to take Hubbard over to the morgue. He wanted to be there when Pendrick met the man whom Sally had chosen before him. He also wanted to see Julia’s response. Most of all, he wanted this stranger to have the answers they needed to clear his name.

 

*****

 

It was Julia’s decision not to show Hubbard the body. She assured him that it was unrecognizable, and since he’d already taken it into his head that it wasn’t Sally, he didn’t insist. Instead they sat down at Julia’s table and she began asking him a list of questions about Sally’s medical history, hoping he’d know more than Pendrick. After a quick introduction to his wife’s second husband, Hubbard hadn’t been much interested in him either.

Pendrick and Murdoch stood out of the way and out of hearing.

“I’m not sure whether to be over the moon that I was never actually married to that woman,” Pendrick remarked as they watched the other two work steadily down the list, “or insulted by her taste in men.”

“I think, by the time she met you, her taste depended on the size of the bank account,” Murdoch said. Since this was his partner, he added, “The fact that you were exceptionally handsome and brilliant must have seemed like a bonus.”

Pendrick slanted him a wry look. “And besotted, let’s not forget that.”

“She had me fooled too.”

“For six months, not six years.”

Murdoch was feeling uncharacteristically light-hearted, which he attributed to at last being free of his jail cell. “Perhaps it’s I who should be insulted by _your_ taste.”

“Perhaps. On the other hand, I am again besotted, and until you prove to be the runaway wife of a Windsor hick, I expect to remain so.” Pendrick didn’t face him, which Murdoch was glad of, since he was now blushing vividly. “You’re not from Windsor, are you?”

Murdoch had to step away or break into a huge grin, an expression he could not justify in an occupied morgue.

At that moment Julia’s voice rose slightly. Hubbard repeated something, and Julia jumped to her feet.

“Gentlemen, I believe we have it,” she exclaimed, hurrying back to the body. As she pulled on gloves and selected a scalpel, she went on. “James, did you know that Sally was once with child? She gave birth to a stillborn infant shortly before she left Mr. Hubbard.”

“No, I had no idea,” Pendrick said. “She told me she had no interest in starting a family, and since I was of a similar opinion, I never pressed it.”

“We didn’t talk about it,” Hubbard admitted. “When Sally lost the baby, I figured she was upset and that’s why she left me, because I couldn’t give her children.”

“Her reason may have been just the opposite,” Murdoch told him, unable to imagine anyone less maternal than Sally. “Julia, can you tell whether this woman has given birth?”

She worked for a few more minutes, then looked up with a triumphant smile. “No, she hasn’t. This is _not_ Sally Hubbard Pendrick.”

Hubbard was the only one who didn’t realize the next obvious conclusion: if Sally wasn’t the victim, then she must be the killer. Someone would have to explain the situation to him, and Murdoch was determined that it wasn’t going to be he. It suddenly seemed as if he hadn’t been alone with his lover for weeks.

“Please update the report,” he said to Julia. “Make sure Inspector Brackenreid and Agent Meyers know what you’ve discovered. I have something else to attend to.” She opened her mouth, read his mind and closed it again. “Thank you. And thank you, Mr. Hubbard.”

“Yes, thank you,” Pendrick echoed. “I’ll see Detective Murdoch out.”

For once Murdoch didn’t care that Pendrick didn’t wait till they were in private; as soon as the carriage reached the road leading to the estate, Pendrick leaned over and kissed Murdoch thoroughly. He slowed the vehicle, but didn’t stop it, and Murdoch had never been happier that his partner could drive with one hand.

At the house they started to go upstairs, but Murdoch stopped them. He knew the spilled wine had long since been cleaned up, but he fancied he could still smell it. The house no longer felt like a safe haven.

“She came into our room while we slept,” he said softly. Pendrick had gone up a few steps, but he came back down to hear Murdoch’s concern. “She had your pistol. She had acid. She could have killed us both.” Murdoch faced him, his earlier amorous mood gone. “Those men could have waited for me to get home. They could have…”

“Don’t even think it, my love,” Pendrick said quickly.

“…I’m not sure I can stay here until she’s caught again.” Murdoch was suddenly extremely weary. “We would be safer in jail.”

“I’m going to pretend you didn’t suggest that.”

“Inspector Brackenreid would let us stay in the same cell if we requested it.”

Pendrick was shaking his head. “If we stayed overnight in the same cell, we’d give them cause to keep us there indefinitely. That is not an option.” He sighed and scanned the foyer thoughtfully. “William, I have some ideas how to secure the house, but I would need to purchase some equipment, and right now all I want to do is touch you. Are you willing to risk one night here? We can barricade ourselves into our bedroom.”

All Murdoch wanted to do was touch and hold his partner too, so he finally nodded.

They had a quick dinner, then went up the stairs together, almost colliding on the landing as Murdoch automatically headed for Pendrick’s room and Pendrick automatically started towards the other. In Murdoch’s mind, one room was for healing and the other for sex.

“Are you recovered enough?” he asked.

“Enough, yes,” Pendrick said. He proved it by raising his right arm a few inches without wincing. “My other parts may be tender, but they don’t have to be involved in our activities tonight.”

That was all Murdoch needed to hear. He directed them both towards his room and the bed they considered theirs. While Pendrick carefully undressed, Murdoch shoved one of the tall wardrobes in front of the hallway door. For good measure, he then shoved one of Pendrick’s wardrobes in front of the door of the other room.

At last he stripped and climbed into bed beside his lover. Only when their naked bodies were in full contact, could he relax a bit, reassured that their lives could resume as normal. By silent consent, they delayed sexual gratification till morning, content simply to sleep in each other’s arms.

 

*****

 

That plan did not go as expected.

Around one in the morning, they were awoken by shouting from below their window. Murdoch ran to look outside, confused by what seemed to be far too much light for that time of night. When he saw the source, he cried out in anger and alarm.

“There’s a fire,” he told Pendrick. “Downstairs; it appears to be in the library.”

Pendrick swore the whole while he dressed. Murdoch merely threw on his trousers and shirt, then began dragging the wooden wardrobe away from the doorway. When he was finally able to pull the door open, he dashed down the stairs barefoot to first unlock the front door, then when several constables and others began pouring into the foyer, to show them where the water pump was in the kitchen. The men formed a chain and used every pot, pan and bowl they could find to douse the flames in the library.

Most of the damage was in the area of Pendrick’s desk, although from the scorching, Murdoch guessed that his contraption in the corner had also been a target. Fortunately it was made primarily of steel and did not even have time to melt. The desk was made of old varnished hardwood and withstood the fire fairly well, unlike the papers and plans that had been sitting on it. Only one relatively small section of books had burned, but they were all replaceable.

By the time the fire was out, Pendrick had come down. He was fully dressed but pale, and upon seeing the damage to his office, he clenched his jaw in fury. Most of the policemen milling around made a beeline for the door, leaving only Constable Crabtree behind.

“You’re probably wondering what we were doing here,” the latter began. He flinched under the identical glares he received, but forged on. “It was Agent Meyers’ idea. Based on Mrs. Pendrick’s actions up till now, he thought it very likely she would make another attempt on your lives before leaving Toronto. He had the lads and some of his men stake out the house.”

“Why didn’t he warn us?” Murdoch demanded.

“You’d already left the station, and he didn’t want to be seen meeting with you -”

“I’m sure he knows how to use a telephone.”

“We’ve been waiting outside since about ten o’clock. A short time ago, one of his agents saw Mrs. Pendrick enter the house through a door at the back. He was about to go in and apprehend her, but…” Crabtree shifted his feet nervously. “I stopped him because of what he might find. If you catch my drift, Sirs.”

“We do,” Pendrick said tightly.

“And then Mrs. Pendrick came out through the front door. Agent Meyers let her get off the grounds before arresting her, and by that time we’d seen the flames erupt. She’d locked the doors behind her, so we tried to wake you up to let us in. If you hadn’t responded, we were going to break the front door down.”

“We could have been dead!” Murdoch exclaimed.

“Agent Meyers assured us you would think to take your own precautions -”

“He used us as bait!”

Pendrick swore again and held out a piece of paper. It had a slit in the center, but the hand-printed words were perfectly legible: ‘ _THIS ISN”T OVER_.’

“This was stuck to our bedroom door with a knife,” he said, oblivious to his choice of words. Murdoch cast a quick look at Crabtree, but the constable was too aghast to comment. “She was up there and tried to get into the room. If we hadn’t barricaded the doorway, that knife might be sticking in one of us.”

“I’m sorry, Sir,” Crabtree said, mostly to Murdoch. “I should have let the agent go inside after her. I wasn’t thinking.”

Murdoch was starting to calm down. “You were thinking as a friend rather than as a policeman, George, which I assure you I do appreciate,” he said. “I blame Agent Meyers for everything.”

“Did the fire burn anything important?”

Pendrick did not grace that with a reply. He crossed the room to examine his contraption, even testing its integrity by starting a marble rolling through it. Crabtree stared in open-mouthed awe as it ran the course.

Murdoch went closer to Pendrick and spoke quietly. “Was the prototype of your oscillator in your desk?”

“No, it’s in my room upstairs,” Pendrick said just as softly. “The plans are in a safe deposit box at my bank and in my head. She left empty handed. And Agent Meyers’ plan has been foiled again.”

Murdoch nodded; that was pretty much what he’d concluded.             After Crabtree and his colleagues had finally gone back to the station, Murdoch and Pendrick left the fire damaged room as it was and returned to bed. The knife jutting out of their bedroom door looked quite wicked and very like the one Murdoch had armed his partner with the night of his attack, so he assumed that Sally had found it in the kitchen. The note she’d left appeared to have been written on paper from Pendrick’s desk.

“She was in the house for quite a while,” Murdoch mused as they undressed yet again. Their clothing reeked of smoke, so he shut them in the lavatory. He also replaced the heavy wardrobe in front of the hallway door just on principle.

“It’s almost morning. Are you ready to make love?” Pendrick asked drolly when Murdoch crawled in beside him.

“I think I’d rather wait until I can see for myself that Sally is in jail,” Murdoch said. “As soon as it’s daylight, I’ll go to the station… and…”

He was asleep before his could finish his sentence.

They both went to Station No. 4 later than morning after explaining to the cook and maid how there came to be a fire in the library. Pendrick promised to bring in additional help to clean it up, as well as to install the security measures he had in mind.

Inspector Brackenreid waylaid them as they headed for the cells. “Let me save you gentlemen a trip,” he called from his office doorway. “She’s not here.”

“Is she being held at the Ministry of Militia and Defense?” Murdoch asked.

“Got it in one. Agent Meyers has her in custody, and he swears that she won’t escape or hoodwink him this time into believing she’ll help his cause. He’s escorting her to Montreal for trial.”

“Why Montreal?”

Brackenreid shrugged. “I’m sure he has his reasons.”

Murdoch had no doubt. “And Mr. Hubbard?”

“We put him on a train back to Windsor. Seemed a bit disappointed that he wouldn’t get to reunite with his wife, but I think I convinced him that he’s better off without her.”

“Miss Ogden?”

The inspector snorted. “I believe her sister had some strong words for the young lady regarding taking police matters into her own hands. Speaking of, Dr. Ogden asked me to send you over should you make an appearance today.” He nodded to include Mr. Pendrick. “Off you go.”

“Sir,” Murdoch said on impulse. “I’ve been thinking of taking some leave.”

“You? Leave? Was there a blue moon last night then?”

“No, but I’d like some time to work on some personal projects.”

Brackenreid wasn’t really interested. “Go, take a few days. You’ve earned it. Just let Constable Higgins know when you’ll be back.”

“I will, Sir. Thank you.”

Pendrick was smiling when Murdoch turned to him. “Personal projects?” he murmured.

In truth, Murdoch just felt in need of some rest. “I’m sure I’ll think of something.”

They walked out of the station together. Murdoch assumed they were heading to the morgue, but outside that building, Pendrick stopped and glanced at his watch.

“Please give my regrets to Dr. Ogden,” he said pleasantly, “but I’ll have to call on her later. I have an errand to run right now.”

“Or course.” Murdoch turned to push open the door, then paused. “Your errand wouldn’t be to pay a visit to Agent Meyers, would it?”

“Perhaps.”

“To see Sally?”

Pendrick smiled blandly. “She and I are overdue for a conversation.”

Murdoch thought that was the worst idea he’d ever heard, but he tried to cushion his reply. “I suspect she’s not in a civil mood this morning. You’re probably the last person she wants to talk to.”

“I frankly don’t care what she wants. She said this isn’t over; I mean to assure her otherwise.”

“She’ll be on her way to Montreal soon. You’ll never have to see her again.”

“All the more reason I should visit her now.”

Murdoch glanced around them, very conscious of all the people walking by. “We can’t have this discussion here. Will you come inside?”

For a moment he thought Pendrick would refuse, but the man finally nodded and followed Murdoch into the foyer of the morgue. They found an empty corridor leading to a back fire escape, an area Murdoch deemed private enough.

“Why are you so adamant that I not see her?” Pendrick inquired. “She can’t harm me in jail.”

“She can cut with her tongue as well as her knife,” Murdoch said shortly. “If you provoke her, she might tell Agent Meyers where she found us that night.”

“She might have done so already, but knowing Sally, she won’t give up her leverage so easily. She’ll enjoy keeping that secret till she can find another way to use it against us.” Pendrick narrowed his eyes, apparently reading something in Murdoch’s face that he hadn’t meant to show. “That’s not it. What else do you fear?”

Murdoch struggled to keep his voice low. He’d hoped to have this dialogue at home, if they had to have it at all. “I fear she will taunt you with what those men did to you,” he said. “Those were _her_ instructions: she wanted you humiliated, terrified and in pain, and she knows they succeeded. I fear she will deepen the wounds they inflicted.” He watched the other man’s face close down. “James, I know you’ve been putting on a front, because I know what having someone inside you means to you. You may not be the emotional wreck I would be in that position, but I _know_ you’re not all right.”

Pendrick almost never blushed, and Murdoch wasn’t sure whether the color spreading in his cheeks now was from embarrassment or anger. “No, I’m not all right, but I’m not afraid of her,” he stated, his whisper almost a hiss. “I’m furious with her! I want her to know that she hasn’t won. Yes, being entered by those disgusting animals was painful, and yes, it was an act I never intended to allow anyone but you to ever do with me again. But it wasn’t what you and I do, William. They couldn’t touch that even if they knew about it. _Sally_ couldn’t touch that, no matter how vicious she is. I want her to know that she may have caused surface damage, but she did not and never will be able to hurt me the way she intended to.”

Some of Murdoch’s own rage faded upon hearing that, but it didn’t mean he was willing to let his lover walk into a lioness’s den. “Why put yourself through that? You know nothing you say will change her mind. Let her go.”

“And never know why she despises me? Why she lied and would have let me hang?”

“James, I’ve listened to murderers explain themselves before. Her reasons, whatever they are, will be selfish and single-minded and will not help you understand what she’s done to you. You’d just be giving her the satisfaction of appearing to care.”

To Murdoch’s dismay, Pendrick turned on his heel and left the hallway. A few seconds later he heard the main door slam shut.

 

*****

 

Murdoch spent the afternoon with Julia pretending to listen to her talk about the other cases she was now trying to catch up on. He made the right responses at the right times, but she was far too intelligent not to realize that he was distracted. When she offered to take him out to dinner, he nearly accepted.

“Thank you, but I need to get home and see if James is speaking to me,” he admitted.

“Was this your first quarrel?”

“It was hardly a quarrel.”

“The time to start worrying is when the quarrelling stops,” she said sadly. “You and James are nowhere near that stage, and judging by what I’ve seen of your rapport, you never will be.”

Murdoch felt like kissing her. Instead, he held out his hand. “Would you like to join us for dinner at the house?”

“While that sounds delightful, company is probably not what James is expecting this evening.” Julia gave him a quick, neutral hug. “But I’ll take you up on that offer for tomorrow evening. Ruby has already told me she has plans, so I would love to dine with you.”

“I’ll come for you after work.”

Since he’d ridden into the city with Pendrick that morning in the carriage, Murdoch ended up walking home. He was nearly to the estate when he started hearing odd noises from up ahead. Upon reaching the drive, he was startled to see half a dozen workmen doing something to the downstairs windows. A cart was parked near the front door and half filled with burned books and other debris, and a truck sat nearby displaying the name of a local wine merchant.

As Murdoch paused to take in this tableau, Pendrick came out the front door with two gentlemen in black.

“All of it,” he said to them, and they hurried eagerly around the back of the house. Pendrick tossed something small and shiny into the junk cart, then joined one of the workmen at the library window. He examined and approved a small apparatus that was now attached to the frame before turning and spying Murdoch.

“You’ve been busy,” Murdoch observed as he moved closer. He indicated the work being done on the windows. “Are those your security measures?”

“Some of them.” Pendrick sounded normal although he watched Murdoch carefully. “I’ve adapted smoke detection devices to monitor sound and movement as well. If anyone opens a door or window once they’re turned on, an alarm will go off loud enough to raise the dead.”

Murdoch envisioned many false alarms in their future, but his sense of relief outweighed that inconvenience. “What else?”

“I’m going to install a pump in the pool so that if another fire should occur, we’ll have a ready source of water.”

“That’s clever.” He saw the two men in black come back to their truck with what appeared to be a heavily loaded handcart. The clink of glass was audible all the way from where he stood.

Pendrick met his eyes. “I’m selling my wine collection. To be honest, nothing under the sun could make me drink a glass of it again, and as far as I’m concerned, the cellar no longer exists. Perhaps I should fill it with cement and be done with it.”

Murdoch moved nearer. “Perhaps fill it partway and build an indoor heated pool down there.” Pendrick’s lips quirked. “At some point in the distant future, of course.”

“Of course. Shall we go inside?”

They left the men to their work and went into the ballroom. The windows here had already been fitted with the modified security devices, so they had it to themselves. Murdoch closed the door to the hallway.

“What did she say?” he asked at once, assuming that was why they’d sought privacy.

“I didn’t go.” Pendrick told him bluntly. “You were right. I wanted to make sense of what happened, what Sally chose to do to me, but it will never make sense to anyone but her. I know I was the best husband I could be; nothing I did drove her to murder. Visiting her to demand an explanation would only give her more ammunition to use against me. Against us.”

Murdoch tried not to show his relief in case it was mistaken for gloating. “The best revenge we can take is to ignore her.”

“That’s the conclusion I came to as well, and I should have realized it when we were talking. I stopped by the station after arranging for the carpenters, wine merchants and locksmith to come, and told Constable Crabtree that they could discard Sally’s wedding ring once it’s no longer needed as evidence. I threw mine out with the other garbage.” Pendrick looked quizzical. “You weren’t there or I would have offered to drive you back.”

“I was with Julia. She’ll be joining us for dinner tomorrow, by the way.”

“I’ll ask Mary to make something special.”

Murdoch crossed to one of the windows in order to study its small attachment. It could only be activated and deactivated from inside the room. “Will you honestly feel safe here once all of this is in place?”

“Yes. Will you?”

“I think so.”

Pendrick came over, flicked the curtains closed, then put both arms around Murdoch from behind. “I didn’t mean to dismiss your anxiety about the possibility of being raped,” he murmured in Murdoch’s ear. “I was trying so hard to convince you that it didn’t affect me, I wasn’t able to give your fear the weight it deserved.”

“Why try to convince me you weren’t affected?” Murdoch asked.

“… I suppose I didn’t want to be treated as a victim. I’ve been beaten up before; it happens, and one is expected to take it in stride. I didn’t want it to mean any more than that.”

Murdoch turned to make their embrace reciprocal. “I might have credited that,” he said in the vicinity of Pendrick’s temple, “if you hadn’t taken so much time and care to make me understand what the act of possessing and being possessed really meant to you. I didn’t want to accept that you could brush off what they did to you, because that would indicate that being taken that way really wasn’t as special as you’d led me to believe.”

“What we do _is_ special, my dear. What they did was despicable and bore no relation to anything you and I have ever done or will ever do.” Pendrick moved in order to meet Murdoch’s eyes in utter sincerity. “Once I’m fully healed, nothing will change between us. I promise you that, William.”

“Until then -”

“We’ll have to resist temptation.”

Murdoch smiled a little. “I was going to say, until then maybe I should practice one of those personal projects I mentioned.” Pendrick raised his eyebrows, but Murdoch just shook his head. “Not until we’re alone. There are too many strangers on the grounds right now.”

“Consider them dismissed.”

It was late enough in the day to make that happen, and Pendrick did so within ten minutes. He and Murdoch sat down to an early dinner, where Murdoch was distracted from his lascivious plans by the sight of his partner serving himself from a carafe of something pale brown in color. It smelled familiar and very wrong.

“Are you drinking cold _tea_?” he demanded.

Pendrick offered him a glass. “Yes, it’s quite popular, I’m told.”

“That’s revolting.”

“Says a man who drinks _lemonade_.”

“You don’t care for lemonade?” Murdoch hadn’t known that.

“Perhaps we’d better agree to disagree on this,” Pendrick suggested mildly. “Unless you’d like to combine the two, in which case neither of us will be able to stomach it.”

That actually sounded more appealing than drinking cold tea by itself, but that wasn’t what Murdoch intended to dwell on this evening. He had something in mind that he’d never fully done before, and he only hoped that his partner was healed enough to enjoy it.

Upstairs they locked themselves in their bedroom and undressed. Pendrick’s arm was functional enough for him to try to pull Murdoch into a clinch as soon as they’d climbed into the bed, but Murdoch held back in order to reassure himself. He gently poked and prodded Pendrick’s various bruises and swellings, noting the man’s reaction. Mostly it was curiosity, until Murdoch’s wandering hand found his private parts. Light though Murdoch’s touch was, Pendrick’s member immediately rose to attention.

“Is that what you were hoping for?” Pendrick inquired. He again tried to encircle Murdoch, who simply pushed him back against the pillows.

“I’m in charge tonight,” Murdoch told him with what he imagined was a roguish smile.

Pendrick bit his lip, but did as directed, reclining with his arms spread out of reach of Murdoch’s ministrations. “This had better be good, my dear.”

During the course of their relationship, Pendrick had many times reenacted their first sexual experience together. That first time had occurred in the library with Murdoch slumped witlessly against the billiard table; most of such activities since then had taken place horizontally, much to his gratification. Pendrick had proven to be adept at oral sex, but till now Murdoch had never attempted the full act. He’d become used to kissing his lover’s penis, and licking it, and even taking the head into his mouth, but he’d never swallowed it, and he’d certainly never swallowed his seed. He’d been contemplating it however, and tonight seemed like an appropriate occasion to complete his education.

When Murdoch leaned down to run his tongue over Pendrick’s cock, the man drew his breath in sharply. Murdoch immediately checked his expression, but it didn’t reflect anything except pleasure. “You’ll stop me if I do something that causes you pain?”             “Of course,” Pendrick gasped with no sincerity whatsoever.

Murdoch returned to his task. He had decided to approach it as a mystery that needed to be solved, so a little experimentation first was only natural. He slowly licked and tasted every inch of Pendrick’s member, carefully noting its reactions. When it appeared to be as thick and rigid as he’d ever seen it, and Pendrick seemed on the verge of swearing, Murdoch lowered his lips down the shaft. It was frankly the largest object he’d ever tried to fit into his mouth, and he was careful to keep his teeth away from the sensitive flesh. When it was only a few inches in, he stopped, uncertain how to accommodate the rest.

“It’s good,” Pendrick panted, evidently recognizing his dilemma. “Use your tongue now.”

Murdoch drew back. “No, I want to do it right.” He grinned at Pendrick’s inarticulate protest at being left to tremble in the breeze. “Let me try again.”

He engulfed Pendrick’s cock a second time, and really tried to relax his muscles in order to allow it to slide down his throat. It wasn’t working. Just as he was about to pull away again, he felt a soothing hand rest on his hair. It didn’t exert any pressure, although Murdoch knew that he must be driving his partner to delirium.

“My love,” Pendrick said softly and rather tensely, “pretend you’re drinking lemonade.”

Murdoch couldn’t exactly laugh in that position, but the attempt somehow made the correct throat muscles push out and in at just the right instant. He nearly panicked when the head of Pendrick’s penis breached his windpipe; when most of the rest of the shaft followed smoothly, and he found he could breathe through his nose, he knew nothing but exultation.

Grasping it at its base, he began bobbing up and down at a leisurely pace until his throat adjusted to being stretched by something so long and hard. Pendrick didn’t rush him, but the hand on his hair began to convulse in rhythm with Murdoch’s moves, and he assumed his partner was close to combusting. Murdoch knew exactly how that felt from being on the receiving end of some excruciatingly long encounters courtesy of Pendrick, so he had no qualms about payback. He drew each descent out as long as he could, aware that he could taste his lover’s seed at the back of his throat, and honestly looking forward to swallowing it for the first time. To his elation, his own cock was responding to Pendrick’s groans by rising steadily.

“William…” Pendrick finally hissed. “Let me come… I’m going to explode.”

Murdoch hummed his willingness, which was all it took. He felt his lover’s member expand suddenly and erupt in his mouth, his hot seed shooting down Murdoch’s throat before he could fully taste it. He had to make do with tenderly licking Pendrick clean as he ran his lips to the tip of his softening penis.

His own need was growing urgent. Murdoch lay down next to Pendrick, who’d collapsed after emitting a shout that could easily have set off one of the new alarms. He expected that the latter wouldn’t mind if he rubbed himself to completion against his naked thigh, but instead, Pendrick roused himself from his apparent coma in order to grip Murdoch’s erection with his good hand.

“I like your personal projects,” he murmured, stroking Murdoch far too slowly. “In fact, I feel I’ve been challenged to come up, if you’ll pardon the expression, with some of my own.”

“Don’t torture me,” Murdoch begged.

“With puns?”

His moan lasted until Pendrick relented and brought him to a climax that made his head spin.

Afterwards they were both too exhausted to do anything but sleep.

 

*****

 

Next morning, leaving Pendrick to supervise the installation of his pool pump, Murdoch rode his bike to church. With one thing and another, he hadn’t been to confession in over a week, and there was something weighing on his conscience. Father Lanahan made time for him because although Murdoch had never succeeded in bringing his partner to services, the priest was well aware of Murdoch’s special circumstances. It had also become obvious that Murdoch was one of the most dedicated Catholics in his flock.

After listing a few of his minor transgressions, Murdoch came to the one he considered the worst. He gave Father Lanahan a very condensed version of what Sally had done to him and his lover. “Father, I wanted her to be hurt the way he was. I wanted her to suffer. I…” He was ashamed to even say it. “I wanted her dead.”

Father Lanahan exhaled thoughtfully. “William, you know that only God can sit in judgment on His children. This woman has sinned and she’ll be punished as He sees fit when the time comes. Did you raise your hand to her in any way?”

“No, I didn’t, but I might have if I’d encountered her after James was beaten and raped.”

“Say ten Hail Mary’s and work on forgiveness.”

Murdoch shook his head, knowing that wasn’t possible. “How is she deserving of my forgiveness? She would do it again, given the chance.”

“Forgive her for your sake, my son, not for hers.”

Murdoch took his leave wishing he’d come sooner.

When he got back to the house the pump was in place and Pendrick was out. Feeling a bit at loose ends without his job to go to, he settled in the library where he made a list from memory of the books that had been ruined in the fire. Most of them would be available at one of the book dealers downtown, so he decided to pay them visit. He returned a few hours later with promises that they’d be delivered next day.

This time Pendrick was awaiting him in the library. The room had been thoroughly aired out, and at some point the scorched wall paper had been removed. The remaining furnishings were in serviceable condition.

“William.” Pendrick stood up from his desk. “I told you yesterday that I’d discarded the wedding rings Sally and I wore.”

“Yes, you did. Is there a problem?”

“On the contrary. The reason I did so is because she and were never legally married.” He shrugged. “It seems only I believed in the sanctity of our marriage; she knew all along that we were living a lie.”

“I’m sorry.”

“It turns out I’m not,” Pendrick admitted. “Since I’ve never actually been married before, my union with you is the only one that matters. Therefore,” he came closer and took Murdoch’s hand in his, “with this ring I thee wed.”

As he spoke, he slid a plain gold band onto the third finger of Murdoch’s left hand. Murdoch was speechless.

“All right then,” Pendrick went on when Murdoch didn’t speak. He slid a matching band onto his own finger. “With this ring thee wed I.”

Murdoch smiled, but he was truly bowled over. “This… I didn’t need this.”

“I know. It’s something I’ve been wanting to do. We can’t tell the world that we’re joined, but in my mind we are as married as any two people wed in a church. More so than some. I want to spend my life with you, and I don’t want you to ever doubt that.” Pendrick leaned forward to kiss him tenderly. “I love you.”

“We can’t wear the rings in public,” Murdoch reminded him. He couldn’t stop staring at the band on his hand; it fit so comfortably and looked so right. “How did you get these so quickly?”

“I ordered them yesterday while you thought I was confronting Sally.”

He clasped Pendrick’s hand in his so that their rings lined up. “With this ring I thee wed,” he whispered. “I promise to love and honor you till death do us part.”

“And I you.”

They would have stayed there basking in commitment all evening if not for a knock at the front door. Murdoch glanced at his watch and started.

“It’s Julia. I forgot she’s joining us for dinner.”

He hurried to let her in, only to discover she wasn’t alone: Constable Crabtree was standing beside her propping up a bicycle built for two. They both looked happily windblown.

“I’m so sorry, Julia. I meant to come for you in the carriage, but the time got away from me,” Murdoch said, and added, “I didn’t know you owned one of these bicycles.”

Julia wasn’t at all upset. “I purchased it for Ruby and me. When I happened to mention to George that I meant to ride over here, he jumped at the chance to join me.”

“I’ve never ridden on one of these before,” Crabtree explained. “They’ve always looked quite charming, and I must say, Dr. Ogden was a splendid riding partner.”

Pendrick had come to the door as well, and only then did Murdoch remember the rings. He opted not to draw attention by removing his now.

“Won’t you join us for dinner, Constable?” Pendrick asked. “My cook has made enough pot roast for an army.”

Crabtree hesitated, looking alarmed at the idea. “Thank you, Sir, but I don’t think I should be socializing with my superiors.”

“Nonsense, George,” Murdoch said, ushering them inside. “Tonight we have no rank. We are friends, that’s all.”

He started to lead them towards the dining room, then recalled their limited entertaining resources. While Julia let George point out to her layout of the ground floor under the assumption she’d never been there before, Murdoch detoured toward the kitchen.

“Can you stall them for a few minutes?” he asked Pendrick. “I’ll need to reheat the roast and lay another table setting.”

“Of course.”

Murdoch completed his tasks as quickly as possible, but when he returned to the hallway he realized there was no hurry. Music was playing in the ballroom, and George was animatedly attempting, to Pendrick’s amusement, to describe to Julia a fast waltz. She seemed fascinated.

“I would love to attempt it,” she said. “Is there time before we dine?”

Pendrick bowed. “I regret, my arm is not healed enough to make a worthy attempt at dancing this evening. Another time perhaps.”

Julia saw Murdoch enter the room. “William, might I interest you in a waltz?”

Murdoch almost declined, but he caught his partner’s smirk. “Of course,” he said at once. They’d performed the fast waltz so many times, he was sure he could lead. “James, if you’ll change the recording please.”

Pendrick put on one their favorites, a lengthy piece, and Murdoch took Julia into his arms. For several beats their eyes met and held, and Murdoch knew without a doubt that she had noted he was wearing a wedding band. Then the music started, and he began to twirl her slowly about the room.

She was a graceful dancer, and before long he’d lengthened their steps, guiding hers to match his. As they began moving faster and faster, Julia caught her breath with delight. Murdoch was sure he’d never danced so elegantly outside Pendrick’s arms.

When the tempo slowed a little, Murdoch felt a tap on his shoulder.

“May I cut in?” Crabtree asked.

“Really, George?”

He immediately colored. “I meant with Dr. Ogden.”

Murdoch released her with a grin. “Be my guest. Julia, do you think you could show him the steps?”

“I’ll do my best.” Julia positioned their arms and swept him off in a rapid swirl of skirt and uniform. Fortunately, Crabtree turned out to be surprisingly agile.

Going up to Pendrick where he watched from beside the Victrola, Murdoch raised his arms deliberately. “May I have this dance?”

Pendrick’s eyes widened at his nerve. He started to shake his head, then he glanced at their potential audience and quirked a smile. “Only if you lead.”

“I’ll be happy to.”

They glided onto the dance floor in a slower version of the energetic waltz the other couple was now enjoying. Murdoch was careful not to put any stress on his partner’s injured arm, but Pendrick didn’t favor it. He seemed completely satisfied to let Murdoch lead for once.

Murdoch was aware the moment their guests recognized that they weren’t dancing alone. Julia merely smiled. Crabtree missed a step or two, but she was able to recover their rhythm and simply steered him away as the music rose in a brilliant crescendo. In perfect harmony, the dance went on.


End file.
